COTCOD VOL 21 - Morning Stars of Eternity
by saruviel
Summary: Chronicles of the Children of Destiny Volume Twenty-One - Morning Stars of Eternity.


Chronicles of the Children of Destiny

Morning Stars of Eternity

by

Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly

.com

Copyright 6178 SC

℗ Circa 6174-6178 SC/2010-2014 CE

Story Contents:

Morning Stars: Raphael

Gabriel 4

Morning Stars: Uriel

Morning Stars: Raguel

Ruth II

Ambriel at the Farm

Morning Stars: Phanuel

Morning Stars: Saruviel

Morning Stars: Sariel

Ruth III

Morning Stars: Bantriel

Morning Stars: Cimbrel

Morning Stars: Dameriel

Morning Stars: Valandriel

Morning Stars: Raphael

(Or Morning Stars III)

Prologue

Generations come. Generations go. The vast history of eternal life can be held in a moment of infinity by the infinite one when he needed to. But to enjoy it, to savour it, to love all that could be and all that was, to be a blessing to his children, and to find them in the centre of his heart – the aeons come, and the aeons go – the love of God remains from Age to Age and Eternal Life goes forth as it always had and always would.

Chapter One

A grand old king, Gabriel, overseer of Zaphon, in reflection, felt to cut it short and not pursue what he had wanted. So therefore, exercising his wisdom, on the 1,000,000th year of his reign, to the day, to the hour, just after the reign being complete, he left Zaphon, took a short flight to Mitraphon, handed Raphael the key to the executive toilet, and smiled at him. 'Watch that Daniel. Just watch him. He ain't a quitter.' And Raphael just smiled.

'Bugger.' Said Daniel. 'All that bloody effort, and off he goes. Off the bugger goes. Oh, Raphael. Holy bloody Raphael. Oh, kiss his arse why don't we. What, I fuc*ing work my ass off for one million fuc*ing years, and the bastard chooses Raphael.' And then Daniel proceeded to insult God somewhat, saying Job can fu*k himself, and Valandriel just stood there, shaking his head, saying 'You dickhead. You total dickhead.'

Later on, Meludiel had come around to console her beloved, patting his head, telling him all would be well and not to worry so much. 'That's life, Danny boy. That's life.' But young Daniel would not be consoled. 'Its not fair,' he winged. 'It's not fair.'

'Who says life is fair,' said Meludiel.

'It's supposed to be.'

'Well look at it this way. Raph has worked hard as well. So give the guy a break.'

Daniel looked at her through teary eyes, after a while nodding, but then went back to sulking. Meludiel patted him on the head, kissed her beloved, and sat there, looking out the window, knowing now everything was right in the world.

Raphael, exiting the executive toilet, now knowing why Gabriel enjoyed his tenureship so much, sat at the large official desk on the executive level of Zaphon, feeling very impressed with himself. It was good. It was grand. It was great. He was happy, very happy, and thanked Jesus his best friend for all the prayers on his behalf for his promotion to this position. And now Raphael, ever so happy, looking out the window, practically ignored Cindradel who came in, holding a package, placing it on his desk carefully, and exiting. She buzzed him a few moments later, said there was a package on his desk, and told him to stay calm about it. Nothing could get to him, though, and opening the package, he laughed. ''The Prophecies of Daniel, Seraphim of Eternity.'' Now what was going on here, he wondered to himself? He looked at the scroll – it was just one page, and the prophecy of the four beasts by the looks of it. But looking at it a section was highlighted. And looking at the highlighted section, it was of the second beast, the Bear. And then, instantly alarmed, realizing that whatever Daniel had been on about, Gabriel's reign had come and gone and now, here he was, Raphael, having replaced him, sitting on the throne of Zaphon. And here it was, a scroll of Daniel, with a second beast being highlighted. Perhaps it was a practical joke, but Raphael would get to the bottom of this escapade. He would find out just who exactly sent this package, and he would have words. Strong words indeed.

'So he won't trace us, Dan? You are sure of that?'

'Look, Val. The prophecy is ancient, now. He'll suspect us as well, but he will have a million people in his head who he could think 'might' have done it. Just deny everything and watch. We have number two now. My guess is, the way they are going, Raph will choose Uriel to replace him, and we strike Uriel with the Leopard.'

'And number four?'

'If Uriel chooses Raguel, in the end, then we have our man. But Uriel might think differently by then. There is a lot to consider. So we wait and see. But Michael and Gabriel have established a pattern, and you know how the big seven think. They like to be consistent. Believe me, they like to be consistent.'

'We'll see,' said Valandriel. 'We'll see.'

'Patience, Kemosabe. Patience.'

'Whatever.'

'Talzudiel, Talzudiel, Talzudiel. So you think you can challenge the supreme power of Azrael, do you? 4 hours? You really expect me to believe you can conquer Mt Zadar, wings tied, in 4 solitary hours.'

'Possibly under, oh supreme lord of pride,' responded Talzudiel the Seraphim to his brother Seraphim Azrael.

Azrael thought on responding to the Columbian lord's sledge, but let it pass. 'Alright, I will bother to come and witness the event. But you will be a laughingstock of the Seraphim if you fail to live up to your claims.'

'I'll make it. And I'll have your record to, Azo.'

The Scotsman looked at the trained physique of the 43rd of the Male Seraphim of Eternity and considered it. He really was looking very fit and perhaps, if he had been training for a while, might just make a go of it. But he would never take Azrael's record. Nobody possibly could. He had spent the second half of the second Arc constantly working on improving his climbing time of Mt Zadar and, at just under 6 hours, he felt he had a record that would last forever practically. But along comes the Prince of Talzudiphora, 43rd disc of the Realm of Eternity, claiming he could take the record in a time of 4 hours, or even less. Really, it was a bold bloody claim, and Azrael admired his brother's challenge, if not thinking him the fool for making such an outrageous boast.

'So when is the date?'

'You set it, Azrael. Any time, day or night. I will be ready.'

Azrael considered that. 'Alright then, how about 3 weeks from today, Galadon afternoon. We'll get the Melladon celebration out of the way and you can have a big party before you fail dismally. How about that.'

'Suits me fine, Azrael. Suits me fine.'

'Oh, and good luck lad. I think you'll bloody need it.'

'No luck. Just skill. And I have been training. Believe me I have been training.'

'We'll see. We'll see.'

Talzudiel finished his ale, nodded at his brother and left the pub. Watching him go Azrael didn't seriously think his record was in any jeopardy, but you could never tell with an angel like Talzudiel. You could never tell with someone from the Columbian disc of Talzudiphora, who were so deadly at the Realm soccer championships these days.

Raphael sat with Nimorel, his twin, in the executive lounge reserved for the Overseer and his company, in the tower of Zaphon. It had been a happy and prosperous week for the 3rd Seraphim male of eternity. A number of early introductory engagements with many of the official business councils, various charity organisations, other good works organisations, and leaders from religious communities and their entourages making themselves known to him. This, apparently, in much of Gabriel's imparted wisdom to himself was the standard everyday stuff of the life of the overseer of the Realm of Eternity. The core business of the role.

'What would you like to eat?' he asked her politely.

'Oh, anything looks good,' she said, putting down the menu. 'I am sure the cooks of Zaphon's most illustrious member know what they are doing.'

'Undoubtedly,' he responded.

They sat in silence for a while, and then Raphael turned to his twin. 'We have talked about this for a long time, Nim. Our success here in Zaphon. The eventual probable appointment of myself to the position after Gabriel's glory ending. We made so many plans, so many I have forgotten, some still with me.'

She nodded.

'It's a time,' he continued, 'to perhaps bring a change of pace to the life of the Realm of Eternity. There has been so much hustle and bustle in the last couple of million years, as Michael and Gabriel have both exerted their influences, getting so many new things accomplished.'

'And you don't desire that?' she queried him.

'Yes. Yes I do desire accomplishments. But without the fanfare. Without the fuss. I think I understand, now, that this life of Eternity will inevitably march forward, as it has always done. And that our life will go on after this – that there will be others in this role. I know, truly, that my brother Uriel has his own mind, as does Raguel and Phanuel and especially Saruviel, and so on. And that, in each their turn, they will bring their own touch, their own styles, their own wisdom to the role of Eternity's overseer.'

She listened with interest at his discourse.

'But for my own way, for my own period in this magnificent role, I desire a calm and steady pace – a period of true stability – in which accomplishment is not so much the name of the game, but rather stable consolidation and consistency.'

'Then it will be as you say,' responded Nimorel.

'Let us hope so,' he replied after a moment.

Their dinner arrived, roast lamb with vegetables and gravy, and as they fed themselves, Raphael made private acknowledgements of his statements to Nimorel, affirming again to himself the fundamental philosophy of life and rulership he intended to bring upon the lives of the Realm of Eternity during his, hopefully, stable and wise reign as the appointed overseer of God.

Shamus Warne looked out the window of the train as it travelled, steadily, on the way from the station at the airport to the cricket hotel. Lizzy Hurly, his cherubim twin, sat opposite him, reading a woman's magazine as was her wont, lost in her own world, not worried about the upcoming match and discussions. The two of them were in 'Cricketalia', as it was called, technically a nation on the 43rd disc of Talzudiphora. A while ago, in the tenure of Gabriel as overseer of the Realm of Eternity, the Columbian nations of Talzudiphora, under Talzudiel's guidance, started progressing further and further in competency at the game of cricket, and established the nation of 'Cricketalia' on the 43rd disc to be totally devoted to the game. The main theme of Cricketalia, as in the constitution of the nation, was simply that – cricket. So much so had the passion become obvious to all and sundry, that the IROECB (International Realm of Eternity Cricket Board) had moved its base of operations to Cricketalia. And now, for Shamus Warne, heavily involved in the game of cricket, the future of cricket in the realm, and the possibility of even further cricket based nations developing even more so on the outer discs as time went by seemed a greater and greater reality. The traditional nations, such as Australia and England, as well as Pakistan and India, were all terribly competitive still and while Cricketalia itself had a developing nation at the game, it was more seen as a lynch pin for specific newer nations based solely on the game of cricket, with Cricketalia something of a foundation stone. And then the bug had caught on and 'Footballia' on the 55th Greek disc of Ulantriphora had emerged, and suddenly a spate of lesser sporting nations the further outwards you went.

The capital city of Cricketalia was named in honour of the greatest of them all and suitably named 'Bradman' which made every passionate Aussie quite proud. But many legends were honoured with towns and cities named after them, even the district of Warne in southern Bradman had eventuated, and wherever you went, whatever job you had, cricket was the one word on everyone lips.

Shamus looked down at his speech. He was to speak at the 70th millennial Grand Cricketalia One Day International Cup of Glory – a long awaited event – and he wanted his speech to be perfect. He had spoken to Lizzy a number of times about his words, which concentrated on a major theme – the power of tradition in the game of cricket, and how continuity of the sport brought and continued to bring countless joy and personal satisfaction to countless souls. She was, apparently, suitably impressed. But you could never tell with Lizzy.

Funnily enough, Sariel would be present. And the history between Lizzy and Sariel the Seraphim was well known to many, going way back to earthly days. But that didn't bother Shamus and, going over his speech carefully, glancing at the outside familiar city sights, he knew they were nearing their destination, and the ongoing pleasure of fame, fortune and cricketing legend status pushed him yet on again to continue his majestic life, as he saw it, happy enough with how things, for the time, were faring.

Winoniel sat in the cold wind, covered in blankets, but not feeling any the warmer. Her twin, Talzudiel, was warming up, going through his stretching exercises, the crowd gathered, including Azrael and Cosadriel, carefully watching him.

'Does he have a chance?" Cosadriel asked Az.

'Negative,' responded the serious looking Azrael, suddenly concerned that the extremely fit looking Talzudiel may indeed have just that – a chance.

Meludiel sat next to Winoniel, as did Nimorel, and Elenniel had been consoling Winoniel all morning about her twin's pride.

'But, that is often what men are simply like, Winny,' she continued from their ongoing debate. 'They ARE based on pride. It is the core motivator which gets them up in the morning – putting their brothers in check. Without these ambitions they drift off into mediocrity, without any clear focus.'

'But a sensible angel knows the limits of reason. A sensible angel is not preoccupied with putting everyone else in their place,' responded Winoniel, who wouldn't be won to the argument.

'Even Ambriel,' started Meludiel, 'competes in his own way. Perhaps only in the ways of love, but in such things, I might hate to say it..' she left off speaking.

'What?' asked Nimorel.

'But in such things even Ambriel has his own pride,' finished Meludiel. 'The king of love, with none greater. Oh, he won't go on about it, but I sense it in his attitude, in the things he says. He will be the number one angel of the graces and mercies of God, for who else possibly could be?'

'I don't think I mind that in him, though Mel,' responded Winoniel. 'God knows it's a better attitude than my own twins.'

'They are only being boys,' responded Nimorel. 'It is just what they are like. Boys will be boys, as they say. My twin, Raphael, reminds me constantly that we are subject to the frailties which God made us all with and, rather than criticizing so much, we should celebrate in a spirit of charity and love the good things we find in each other, even when those things rear their ugly heads. Like today,' she said, looking at the boys discussing Talzudiel's chances, and the other women nodded.

Aquariel, standing next to Gabriel, her hands in warmers for the cold, looked concerned. 'You don't think he will injure himself, do you Gab? I mean, he will be going so quickly if he is to do it in the time he boasted of.'

Gabriel said nothing, but just stared at Talzudiel. Michael, standing next to Gabriel spoke up.

'I wouldn't worry so much, Aqua. Talzudiel is not stupid. Proud, yes. One of the most. But not stupid. I think he fully intends to get this record, and perhaps even knows how to. It really could be a spectacle.'

'If the idiot doesn't kill himself trying,' she said, looking on.

Ambriel, standing next to Raphael, was not exactly worried about Talzudiel's glory, but concerned, like Aquariel, that he might possibly injure himself. 'I am sure an experienced angel like Talzudiel will not make a fool of us all. Don't worry, brother. But I know that is your way.'

Ambriel looked on, still concerned for his brother, but took Raphael's words to heart.

Satan of Infinity was standing with Cherubim Semyaza of Eternity, with Daniel the Serpahim of Eternity and Nadiel the Cherubim of Eternity, watching on.

'The dickhead's going to do it, then?' queried Satan.

'Your guess is as good as ours,' responded Daniel.

Nadiel pumped her fist in the air, as Talzudiel was about to get started and yelled 'Come on Tally boy. Show us what you are made of.' A cheer went up from the group of angels then, and Talzudiel bowed.

'Well, ladies and gentlemen,' began Talzudiel. 'We have come here today, not so much to witness the glory of Talzudiel, which is well enough known to all anyway, but the utter humiliation of the pride of the 'Challenger'' he said, looking directly at Azrael, who waved back at him.

'Come on, you South American peacock,' yelled Azrael. 'Time to put us all out of our misery. Your obvious failure impending will brighten up all our days.'

Talzudiel stared at him with dagger's in his eyes, but continued unperturbed.

'Anyway, records were meant to be broken. Such is life.' He turned to the timekeeper, who was connected via walkie talky to another timekeeper on top of Mt Zadar.

'I'm ready,' said Talzudiel.

The crowd hushed somewhat, and as Talzudiel stood right next to the starting line of the traditional starting point for this challenge, some questioned whether, in reality, the record would indeed fall today.

'Ready. Set. Go.' And Talzudiel was off, running like the wind.

As they watched him go, Azrael noted how fluently he ran, like a leopard after its prey and grinned a little consoling himself. He seemed to know now, if he hadn't done so already for sure. Talzudiel was in 'Lethal' phase. His record was as good as gone.

Later that night, after the celebrations over Talzudiel's triumph had died down, Talzudiel, Azrael and Cosadriel were out the back of the bar at the foot of Mt Zadar, drinking, all slightly intoxicated.

'You kicked arse,' said Cosadriel to Talzudiel.

'Yep,' responded Talzudiel.

'Scottish arse,' continued Cosadriel, looking at Azrael, who didn't respond.

'Yep,' responded Talzudiel.

'But that aint exactly a challenge, is it?' continued Cosadriel.

Again, Talzudiel smiled, and said 'Yep.'

They all sipped their beers for a while, and then, finally, Azrael said 'Bah, humbug,' and the two others burst out in laughter.

It was perhaps a vain attempt at glory, yet again, but the 'Prophecies of Daniel the Seraphim' cropped up on some documentaries for a few years with the new overseer now in place. The common assumption, still, was that Michael or Gabriel was beast number one and that Gabriel or Raphael was now beast number two, and if Michael number 1 and Gabriel number 2, then Raphael was the third beast of the Prophecies. Opinions were divided. One thing was certain – the fourth was still to come.

Michael had a pretty good idea who was behind the scenes, promoting the prophecy yet again – Daniel and Valandriel. He had no real proof, and the Theophany responded to his queries with 'Why are you asking me for?' But he was not an idiot – he knew what was going on. Still, Raphael would go on unbothered by the prophecy, and then likely Uriel, and Raguel, and Phanuel and Saruviel, and so on. It would die away, eventually, Michael assumed, and be considered nothing more than humour. An old joke of Daniel's. Still, one day perhaps, he would sort Daniel out on the issue. One day, perhaps.

Gabriel, who had now retired from the position of overseer with the appointment of Raphael, was now summing up his new life post glory days. Oh, he soon found out that Terraphora disc beckoned to him to be its overseer, as the tradition was quite strong now that each disc have its own overseer, and that based on birth rank of Seraphim and then Cherubim. It was taken for granted, in fact. And, with that much being accepted, Gabriel drifted into Michael's company a lot who, for the most part, was accepted as overseer of Zaphora, the central disc, and the two became, as strange as it might sound, even closer than ever. Daniel was a concern, though. Rumour had it that his and Valandriel's ultimate goal was a power-sharing arrangement for some sort of ultimate rulership over the realm. Apparently, Valandriel as a 'Prime Minister' type of figure, and Daniel as a more symbolic 'Arch-Regent' type of figure, with each to rule from their respective discs. This was the goal of their glory, apparently, as both Michael and Gabriel learned from discussions with various of the Seraphim.

In the end Michael was not really sure if that bothered him. Daniel was an eccentric sort of character, Valandriel usually less so, but they were not quite like his traditional adversary, Saruviel. They would keep him concerned, but he didn't really need to worry about morality aberrations for the most part, perhaps apart from some traditional liberal attitudes which were, in truth, a part of his traditional judaic faith anyway. But the very fact that they both sought positions of order, well, well that summed it up. They wanted to both keep a firm hand in the influence each maintained of peace and stability to the lives of the Realm of Eternity. Perhaps it wasn't a bad thing at all in the end, and their attempts at maturity almost to be encouraged. Perhaps.

Michael and Gabriel formed a tag team of sorts, in these days, hanging with each other a lot, fielding genuine inquiries for their plans for the local discs. An Aussie politician wrote a good document on Australian and American national governance, describing the delineation between the traditional roles of Federal versus State governance, and an equating of this idea to the Realm of Eternity as a whole and the role of the Realm Overseer, to the individual discs and each disc Overseer, and the document was well received, discussed on television documentaries and current affairs and economic shows a fair bit and both Michael and Gabriel, one evening, watching a particular telecast, gained a fair impression of the potential their own roles could achieve in this respect. The glory of supreme power was gone from them, now, and each knew that, perhaps never to return. But, also, perhaps never needed to or never should. They had responsibilities enough with their own discs and, while it was still so much of an issue for each Seraphim to look forward to their impending overseersmanship's, upon Michael and Gabriel the reality of their discs of responsibility hit home and, in private discussions, the Theophany a bit later hoped that they had gotten the point from what God was educating them on. They did so.

The initial years of Raphael's responsibilities were, indeed, marked by a spirit of stability, constancy, and calmness. He imparted this very effectively, much in the way Sariel undertook such responsibilities in ancient of days. It was times of prosperity, growth and peace in general for the Realm of Eternity, and the other realms enjoyed similar good times. Life had its highs, and lows, but generally went about its business with its predictable and usual merry hum and strum, as each of the angels and children of God pursued their ongoing agendas, in general, of life, love and the pursuit of happiness.

Raphael stood on top of Zaphon tower. Here he was – overseer of the realm of eternity – ruler of God's most glorious domain. Well, ok, perhaps that was a boast. In the end heaven above the realms of infinity and paradise and the other ones were quite significant as well, but he had to be biased? Didn't he? Call it patriotism, which he usually disavowed out of pacifistic reasons, or perhaps just a particular hometown love for his own realm of antiquity, but the Realm of Eternity was glorious to the Archangel Raphael. It always had been.

Here he was – on top of the world – on top of the universe. The power to him was immense, but, naturally, with great power came great responsibility. That much was an unavoidable truth.

He looked skywards. Of all the angels to take to the sky that morning with him for his regular flight, Ambriel had shown and was still up there, slowly circling downwards, enjoying the glories of the new morning. Whatever was on his mind, Raphael hoped the best of enlightenments for his dear brother.

Here they all were. Still together. The angels of God. The children of Eternity. Life, now, to Raphael the Morning Star of God's glory, was still intensely alive at times, still filled with wonder, still filled with love. Challenges still came along, and he had concerns for Saruviel, of all people, who he often wondered whether he still had found the peace of mind and heart – his souls consolation – that he longed for all his brethren to find. Perhaps he had. Perhaps he would in time.

In all his long life, things had not yet changed that dramatically for the angel Raphael. He still did what he did from youth, minister to other angels in love, and the ancient teachings of Mitraphora still guided his heart, still drove his ways of mentoring and teaching others, still helped him declare his love for all who came into his life. But that was the heart that Raphael found within him – a heart which had steadily grown stronger with the passing of time, and grown to love more, to be more angelic – to be more godlike.

There were so many things he wanted to say to people, new people who came into his life, younger angels, and he did so, often. But the passion of life was not diminished in his heart, and he was still young in many ways, still alive, still full of the joys of God Almighty. He felt so good and so thankful to God for the peace he constantly found and, in praise, especially in these current glory days, he poured out his heart to God, expressed his deepest thanks and gratitude, and served him with a dedicated spirit, a whole spirit, completely in love with him and alive to the life of an angel of God – alive to the life of Raphael, third-born Archangel of the Seraphim Angels of Eternity, overseer to the Realm of God's eternal Glory.

'No, Jesus. Sure, I hear what you are saying about loyalty. I'm not stupid. You just can't afford it.'

Jesus took a sip of punch. 'Why not, Daniel? I do remember your commitment. My spirit was well aware of it at the time.

'Certain people. David Rothchild, for example, disputing various things. My own interpretation, as well. God is saviour. Jesus Christ's claims, well. Well, they were wrong. He wasn't the saviour. He ISN'T the saviour. And that is the way it is.'

'I understand,' responded the man from Nazareth, and disappeared back into the party, one of Raphael's get togethers for elder Seraphim and Cherubim.

Michael came over, noticing Jesus had left Daniel. 'What did he want?' asked the firstborn of the Seraphim.

'An old issue,' said Daniel, and said nothing more.

Michael looked at Daniel, into his heart, and said nothing more on the issue. He sort of knew, from the Holy Spirit telling his heart, what had transpired. An old issue. Really, an ancient one.

Talzudiel was in a good mood. A very good mood. But hey, who wouldn't be. The world record holder for conquering Mt Zadar the quickest – an amazing effort. But now, that was just the beginning, and more records beckoned. Many more records, hopefully.

He was in his room in his private abode, not far from the central administrative section of Talzudiphora disc, in the city of Bogota Prime. Bogota Prime, or simply Bogota, was the capital city of Talzudiphora, on the eastern section of the disc. Of course, Talzudiphora was huge – but every disc of eternity from about Mitraphora and onwards outwards was like that – huge distances which only doubled every time. Getting around required special ultrasonic travelling jets, which knew no real maximum speed, but simply took about the same time to reach the speed needed. It was mostly about starting up, and slowing down, and that was about it in getting where you wanted to go in the realm of eternity.

Around his room were tributes to his glory – medallions, trophies, pendants, and other tributes to his glory from his long, long life as an Angel of God. Some were made of Eternya, the valuable ones, which would last indeed forever, for Eternya was special stuff designed to last forever regardless of attempted wear and tear upon the object. They were trinkets in many ways, simple things, and idols in another. Special mementoes of past glories, special little tributes to his efforts in being what and all he could be. And he was, indeed, proud of them. Perhaps something more, ultimately, beckoned beyond such glories as competition, but not for now in the life of Talzudiel. For now achieving real and credible records – records of great pride and glory – was the name of the game and, in doing as such, Talzudiel found the ecstasy in life which his own name in the angelic tongue truly meant.

He sat there, at his desk in his den, looked up at a picture of his twin Winoniel, wondered in the end if he was simply doing this to win her heart, as he often did question his motivations, but once again dismissed the idea. In the end Talzudiel assumed he was pursuing a form of wisdom – resume credentials. Records of achievement. Something he could display in his curriculum vitae to others to show, indeed, he was qualified on one of the more important aspects of life – achievement at an outstanding level.

Oh, he was a wealthy angel, and indeed it did seem he had already been eternally rewarded with the job as overseer of Talzudiphora, so why bother in the end? Really – why bother? But, perhaps it was just because of the rewards he had already been given in life, the position of true glory, that he should in fact bother to show himself worthy of the position. And perhaps, in doing the things he did, in achieving the records and the glories which Talzudiel, Seraphim angel of God, had achieved, he would never actually need to brook criticism of his esteemed position and be accepted, in general, by all those who worked beneath him and those in the realm who might, perchance, one day question his deserving or suitability for the role. Perhaps it was just that.

Or perhaps he just liked competing, and had some male pride, which is what he smiled to himself and concluded, before getting to his feet, going off to find Winoniel, and get some food into him.

Chapter Two

Raphael looked at the notice. 'A Challenge. To my Seraphim brothers and sisters. The upcoming Kalphon Games. What are we all, really, made of? What lies in the competitive spirit of the Seraphim of Eternity? Will Azrael triumph? Will Ultra-Angel Michael reign supreme? Will that idiot Daniel fluke it again? Will Cosadriel fight the fight and kick arse? Or will I, Talzudiel, humble you all with my obvious skills and talents which exceed the best of your humble but poor aptitudes and attitudes? The Kalphon Games – a test of Seraphim Glory – be there or lose bragging rights for the next few centuries.'

Raphael didn't like this. He didn't like this one little bit. Talzudiel had exceeded himself, in arrogance. His Zadarian success had gone to his head. What, did he really think himself unbeatable? Did he really think his talents the greatest of all?

Raphael looked at the slip, thought long and hard about tearing it up and forgetting the dumbness of it, but inside his heart, a little voice, a little voice from his youth, which occasionally sat up and made a joke, or gave a taunt, or even, possibly, responded a bit to a challenge, said 'What. Are you really such a wuss, now, Raph, that you can't hack Tally having a go?'

Raphael took the paper, put it on his bookcase, went to his office wardrobe, put on his joggers and track suit, and came out to Cindradel. 'Hold my calls, Cin. I have an arse to kick.'

Cindradel looked at him, slightly confused. 'An arse to kick?' she queried.

'An arse to kick,' responded Raphael resolutely.

'Then you go kick your arse,' said Cindradel, smiling. And, encouraged, Raphael started off, making for the elevator, doing 'Rocky' fists in the air, ready to do the run of his life, ready to kick some arse. Some South American Seraphim Arse.

'Come on. Get serious,' said Meludiel to the pride filled Daniel. 'God is saviour.'

'Of onions, celery and cabbage leaves. It's all the food he would probably call holy.'

'You've been reading Raphael's recent policy statements, I take it,' responded Meludiel with a frown.

'Yes I bloody have, Mel. A 'Holy' person abstains from luxuries in life, walks humbly, follows the spirit, and is at peace with his fellow man. That's the wisdom of Mitraphora? Jesus Christ!' he exclaimed.

'Don't blaspheme,' she responded instinctively.

Daniel just glared at her.

'You love God. I know you adore him.'

'Like a hole in the head,' responded Daniel.

'Daniel,' she responded chidingly.

'Oh, lighten up Meludiel. The Lord of Glory is well known for his rebukes to keep law and order, as blessed Michael likes to put it, and while I have my own particular fascinations on that subject, I wouldn't approach it the same way as firstborn.'

'You'll get your opportunity one day,' she said looking away.

'Exactly,' he started, excitedly. 'Valandriel and I have a far deeper perspective on how the future and life should be arranged.'

'It will take you in ways more predictable than that,' she suddenly said prophetically.

'What's that supposed to mean?' he asked her.

'Does a leopard change its spots,' she replied, smiling sarcastically at him.

'Def Leppard,' he responded.

She looked at him, curious.

'Def Leppard,' he responded.

'What about bloody Def Leppard,' she responded.

'Me and My Wine. The video. There you go.'

She sat there, for a moment, thinking on the video. 'I don't get your point,' she said at last.

'Think the drum kit.'

She sat there, thinking for a while. 'I still don't get your point.'

'What is written on the drum?'

'Oh. Uh, Def Leppard isn't it,' she said guiltily, already getting his point

'No it's bloody not. And you know it. It's Deaf Leopard. And there you have it. Changed their bloody spots.'

'My point is,' continued Meludiel, 'Jesus is very upset at your attitude. He was put off.'

'Screw him,' responded the 45th Male Seraphim of Eternity.

'Great attitude,' said Ariel, putting down her magazine.

'Even Jesus deserves a break,' said Ambriel.

Daniel grizzled. 'Oh, for heaven's sake. Ok. I will lighten up. Tell you what. I'll go to the throneroom. Chat with the old man. Tell him he's doing a fantastic job running the universe.'

'Good attitude,' said Ambriel, returning to his newspaper.

'Hey. I know,' said Daniel.

'Here we go,' responded Meludiel.

'I'll start a new religion.'

'Not again,' bemoaned Ariel.

'The eternal and sovereign way of Jehovah the absolute supreme glorious being of everlasting salvation, holy delight, joy of hearts and minister of pure and true devotion to his called and chosen holy elect of eternal beauty and truth.'

Ariel giggled a little.

'The title's too short,' said Ambriel.

They all laughed at that.

'Tell him you love him,' said Meludiel.

'Jesus Christ!' swore Daniel.

The glare from Meludiel was enough of a rebuke.

Raphael was exhausted. 17 weeks of training, running mainly, but some other exercises, and here he was, halfway on a jog from Zaphon Tower to the rim, and he had pushed himself a little too much, he was now starting to realize. And then the spirit started speaking to his mind, and reminded him that Talzudiel had been pushing himself on sporting excellence for a very long time, and a newbie, even a zealous one, was hardly going to challenge him anytime soon. And then he reminded him of the virtue of humility. And Raphael acknowledged the point.

He had committed to a 20 year program of training for his initial glories, and would commit to what he had started. But, with his initial lesson learned, he would likely scale it back after that. Fair enough for the new overseer to establish his fitness at the beginning of a regime, but he didn't have to go crazy about it. 20 years would suffice in this sense.

As for Talzudiel. Well, let him have his glory.

He kneeled down, pulled a little pebble out of his sneakers, and stretched his legs. And just then, looking at the MacDonalds sitting there next to the road, the sign lit up, the foods he had been abstaining from in his recent health kick looking oh so tempting, Raphael caved, went inside, and ordered 3 Big Macs with fries, and a dozen chicken nuggets. And his unbeknownst to himself personal guardian angel just chuckled a little.

'Goodbye Alice in Wonderland,' said Talzudiel.

Jewel Kilcher smiled curtly, and curtsied. 'I am sure I will miss you in the extreme, kind sir.'

'Our relationship has reached its end,' he said in his polished Spanish accent.

'It was love at first sight,' she responded.

'But not a love to last forever,' he finished.

'Tallie. Don't forget to get some KFC before you get home. And I like popcorn chicken remember.'

'Will do, Jewel,' he responded.

She watched him go, the one who had fixed her broken heart, with his polished excellence in sporting endeavour, his genteel loving, his calm charisma, and his panache. She was far, far too serious for a woman of her own intutition to fall for a man who practically required service to an ego, supposedly, greater than Daniel the Seraphim's. Supposedly, although she had met that particular angel once or twice, and he was the quintessential bastard more than anything else, with that sadistic grin while he was looking at her, with that malevolent mock of 'I have listened to every fucking one of your songs, and I will be watching you forever. If you fuck up, Miss Kilcher…' look. He was insidious. She would conquer him in time to be.

But she loved Talzudiel for the time being, delighted in his fine and fit stomach, his professional loving, his expertise in cooking and restauranting, and, despite herself, and her musical critique of ultra high sensitivity, laughed at his crooning on the Spanish guitar, and tempted herself to fall for him forever.

He was quite a work of art, this angel fashioned by that eternal God she still challenged and responded to with quiet amusement at the subtle comments of sarcasm about all things male he was in the habit of discoursing upon in their occasional meeting around Zaphona city.

Jewel was happy with life, and being the rather newish lover of Talzudiel, who was currently less and less involved with his twin Winoniel, caught up in a current haze of action and adventure, seeking, it would seem, a more appropriate mate for his vision of self-glory. She was the other woman, she knew it, but for the time being Alice in Wonderland really didn't mind.

But the Scarlet letter Ty threatened at labelling upon her in their current email dialogues. The estranged husband, legally separated, but still, technically wed. It had been a long relationship, most passionately and dedicatedly pursued with devotion in early epochs of life, but time and, well..., just that. Time. It passed, and other people, other men, seemed to somehow crowd in and reminded her that nothing really lasts forever in affairs of the heart in the purest of romantic fantasies, for they all fell in the end.

Alice went home in the end.

Got a real job in the end.

Did find a man in the end.

Enjoyed fucking him in the end.

…..yet at the end of the white picket fences…and the lovely valentine roses….and the lovely supply of anniversary presents…..something still lacked for Alice.

For she had yet to be challenged by an equal in her heart.

And living in the real world, with the freedoms she knew she had earned, and the suffering her gender had unjustly lived, she knew herself justified in the desires of the heart she craved.

Till one noble enough to commit eternal arose?

Or the gentle twilight of the soul took over, and she rested in romances Sheol, and simply got by, with her friends, her family, and that old guitar.

And that old rock'n'roll.

For she had yet to be challenged…

In time, all worked out. Raphael had dreams and visions, and the prophecies of Daniel were a constant worry. Jewel found her new man, and the Cherubim was mighty pleased to date her for a while. And all other stories climaxed together in an old fashioned wedding betwixt Raphy and Nimmy, were they worked it out, and had a good ole time.

The End

Gabriel 4

'Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. When will you learn, my fine feathered friend?'

Satan grinned once more at Seraphim Gabriel of Eternity, dressed in a chicken outfit, out the front of one of Satan's fast food restaurants, somewhere on the disc of Mitraphora. Gabriel had lost a match of chess with Satan, and had agreed to dress as a chicken to promote one of Satan's Chicken Restaurant empires. And so, with the dark lord of evil watching on, Gabriel was handing out flyers in the shape of a chicken, doing his very best not to be embarrassed.

'I'll get you for this, you know, Satan. I'll get you back. When you are least suspecting you will enter into a DARK agreement, and vengeance shall be mine.'

'Dream on, punk,' responded the dark one. 'Now remember, you have 3 solid years of this work before your time is up. A wager is a wager.'

'I am still not sure how you won. I had you with only a few moves to play, and suddenly it was checkmate.'

'Whatever. Now remember, smile and say 'El Supremo's make the best chicken in town'. Come on, give it a try,' he said again, a smirk on his face.

'El Supremo's make the best chicken in town,' said Gabriel blandly.

'Surely you can do better than that, sayeth I. Now put some heart into it.'

'El Supremo's make the best chicken in town,' said Gabriel, this time with just a tad of enthusiasm. Satan looked distressed, shaking his head. 'It will have to do, I guess. But remember – 9 to 5. 9 to bloody 5, and only half an hour for lunch. Have fun,' he said, walking back into the restaurant.

Gabriel grumbled as he walked off. 'You can have fun and take this chicken suit and shove it up you're… Oh, yes Maam,' finished Gabriel, to a lady who had walked up to him, inquiring about the flyer. 'Yes,' he said, handing her a flyer. 'El Supremo's make the best chicken in town.' As she walked into the restaurant Gabriel smiled to himself. Hopefully a satisfied customer. Hey, this wasn't that bad after all.

It was 4 O'Clock in the afternoon. Gabriel was still at work, yonked after a hard day's yakka, and a little birdie had sent certain priority emails to certain people. Suddenly he was confronted with 4 very sarcastic angels.

'Heh, heh, heh. That looks like fun,' said Daniel the Seraphim.

'Shut up Dan.'

'He'll get the hang of it,' said Raphael.

'Yes, I am sure he will, finished Michael.

Gabriel turned to the other angel. It was Aquariel.

'And you wondered why I said no,' stated Aquariel, giving him a good old fashioned dressing down with her look.

'Look, I lost a wager. I had no choice,' said Gabriel defensively.

'Heh, heh, heh,' said Daniel again, grinning.

Aquariel summed it up. 'I guess you are too much of a CHICKEN to get a real job anyway. Too many tough roosters in the hen house competing with you.'

Gabriel groaned, the other three laughed, took flyers from him, and went inside to eat some chicken.

When he had finished for the day he joined them and had a tasty chicken burger. Actually, it was pretty good chicken. He was not quite sure if El Supremo's did in fact make the best chicken in town, but after a solid day's handing out flyers, he was not sure if he really cared. And as he munched down his chicken, the other 4 just cracking jokes and ribbing him, he was grateful that he at least had some friendly company in what could end up one of the more demanding jobs in the realm of eternity. At least he was grateful for that.

The End

'Morning Stars: Uriel'

(Or Morning Stars IV)

Prologue

Yes. Yes. Yes. That would be next.

Chapter 1

'I am telling you straight, Val. I am telling you straight. He bloody won't choose anyone apart from Uriel. It is this streak thing they have talked about for ages. They want a streak. They are determined to go from Raphael to Uriel, and then Rags and Phan and Sar. They won't budge. The eternal Sovereign Seven. And boy are they up themselves about it.'

'Yeh. I know. Still, 45th is ok. And consistency is important, remember. It's important. Builds up reputations, and that's a good thing.

'Yeh, I suppose. I suppose. Well, I can wait now. I don't mind waiting now. But they better choose me when its my turn, or there will be hell to pay. I can tell you right fucking now, there will be hell to pay.' Valandriel nodded. Indeed, they're likely would.

'Well, is, you know, the agenda worth pursuing. Raphael brushed us off for most of the Arc, but, we may very soon have beast number 3 at our disposal. Shall we continue? Is it worth the grief again?'

Daniel considered that, and after a while smiled. 'Mmm. Well, I guess so. He is still a diehard Christian, Raphael, so the claim can quite possibly be made. We will see how Uriel turns out. Don't worry, this time I will drop off the package. Cindradel has sworn to secrecy, so it shouldn't be a problem. I guess, after all, it is an opportunity better not wasted. We'll see how it goes.'

'And then likely Raguel, huh? You are sure they will choose him.'

'Probably. But we will wait and see, ok. We will wait and see.'

'Kapiche Kemosabe,' responded Valandriel.

'Very funny,' said Daniel. 'Very funny.'

'The blessings of life eternal,' began the speaker, 'are in living the life which has completed its mission.'

'And that mission?' queried archangel Uriel, sitting in the front row of the Haven Noahide Fellowship meeting of its central fellowship, in the heart of Zaphora, not far from Danielphon, Daniel himself being the sermonist on this particular occasion.

'The mission we are all facing in life. Working it out. Working out how to live it. To do it right. To do it in the way, in the end, in which we are happiest - most satisfied - most alive to all the realities which are involved in enduring an eternal existence.'

'And is that lifestyle enshrined in Torah?' was the next question from Uriel.

Daniel nodded slowly. 'Yes. I guess you could say it is. But there is more than written Torah. More to life than the wisdom enshrined by God in his teaching directed towards us.'

'Explain,' said Uriel.

'Genesis 1 teaches a central principle. God is creator. Yet, we are creation, and being creation we function, not in individuality like so many liberal minded believers lapse into, but in a state of communion with all other beings, God included. The choices we make in this life affect others. We are not alone. We are not a rock - an island - impermeable to all which goes on around us. We are affected by the all, and we affect the all.'

'Which means what?' asked Uriel again.

'Which means,' continued Daniel, 'that the blessings of life eternal are working out how to make the right decisions, on a daily basis, for not only our happiness, but the happiness of the all. For in the wider community in which we co-exist together, the all's happiness shapes our own, and vice versa.'

Karel spoke, the 4th born of the female Seraphim. 'How do we balance this dichotomy of self versus society?'

'The first impulse is that of order. Through an orderly individual life we contribute to the balance of an orderly society, which is the first rule of law. And through an orderly society the next stages of developing wealth, prosperity, family, tradition, culture and glories are achieved. Thus, as an individual part of a wider whole, we function in the first place on the basis of moral rule - moral law - order - to ensure evil, the opposite to the base society in which happiness can be achieved, does not prosper. And by recognizing that only when the whole of society, with all its individual parts working as they should, and the whole flowing properly as it should, do we find true happiness. Thus, to answer the question, in Torah the first rule of Order is achieved. This God has done for us. But his first chapter of Torah - creation - teaches that there is a great society of factors, the aspects which have arrived from God's creation, including man and angel at its primacy. And man and angel, themselves, go on to create more things for society. Therefore, when we obey Torah, the society works on the basic level of Order. Yet, in all the complexities of this creation, with the need for food, work, entertainment, and other social constructs, there is more than just the teaching of Torah. It is the universal knowledge of how things work, of how cultures function, of how things make us laugh and cry and so on, that is the knowledge which we must learn - properly - to not only fully understand and appreciate the wider realities of creation in which we live, but by understanding the basic principles of all this knowledge, we can function appropriately and correctly in relation to our own bodies, souls and spirits - but also in relation to all the other aspects of the universe. So we read text books to work properly, we watch romances to love properly, and study health techniques to live properly and eat properly.'

'And in mastering the universal knowledge, which has the moral law of Torah enshrined at its centre which make it all run smoothly on the basic level of moral conduct, we grow in knowledge to the point were we can achieve the blessings of life eternal. Which, to sum up, is to live life according to all the correct rules and principles of the universe - of creation - and all that it contains.'

'And if we choose to rebel?' asked Uriel, a smile on his face.

'Then we live in freedom by the power of Saruviel.

And Daniel then grinned madly. 'Or by the power of the dark lord, and let our own selfish passion run amok.'

The audience clapped, then, and Daniel finished his sermon. It was well spoken. And the wisdom therein was acknowledged by Uriel the Seraphim.

'Pride comes before the fall,' said Uriel, calmly, dressed in white robes with red dragon emblazoned on the front, in Chinese style.

'Pride comes before the fall,' confirmed Daniel the Seraphim.

'Pride comes before the fall, confirmed the prophet Daniel, the Cherubim.

'Pride indeed comes before the fall,' likewise confirmed Chileab, son of King David, whose name was also Daniel.

'Yes. Pride comes before the fall,' said Callodyn the Cherubim, Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

Uriel looked at the 'Council of Daniel's. The Lords of humility, as the Theophany had called them, with a smile on his face, in a recent event in which the Overseer of the Realm of Eternity, Uriel, was being honoured by his guests.

'To think too greatly of ourselves?' queried Uriel.

'Leads to crucifixion,' said the wisecracking Jesus of Nazareth, over by the side of the council, an honoured guest.

Daniel, son of David, spoke up. 'It is a distortion of the truth. A great sin. For while excessive humility can often be taken as a sign of virtue, nobody likes a braggart. They bring the party down.'

'In your mocking words of superiority,' spoke the Seraphim Daniel, 'if you have not the ability to back up your proud words, do not expect to be easily forgiven. Or respected.'

Kantriel, another honoured guest, dressed in chainmail, a dragon also emblazoned on his tunic, spoke up. 'By what right does the council of Dan's judge us? Where is your authority?'

'Yes,' commented Jesus. 'I wouldn't mind knowing the answer to that myself.'

Daniel the Cherubim turned to Saruviel. 'Do they object to being judged? I was assured they sought our wisdom before we convened this council?'

Kantriel spoke before Saruviel could comment. 'Sorry. Sorry, that is true. We do desire your wisdom. Yet, I ask, what makes the council of Dan's so wise in its own opinion that it presumes to judge those such as ourselves?'

Callodyn spoke. 'Wisdom. Eternal wisdom. It comes to those who have humbled themselves before the throne of eternal knowledge, our eternal father himself. He commissioned our council for the purpose of teaching enlightened wisdom of spiritual morality. Our everlasting Kingdom of Divine authority is enshrined in Torah, also, by the will of God Most High. Would you seek to remove our appointment?'

'No,' said Jesus. 'If God has approved of you.'

Callodyn spoke again. 'We have much we could say. We have led long lives, just as yourselves, and given much thought and ponderings to the intricacies of many areas of judgement. For our names appoint us to this role, and it is how we see our fulfilments in life. But, in our humility, we do not oppose those who reject such judgements. We come only in mercy and grace. Our words are intended to bring hope, joy and meaning. We do not insist they are acted upon. We are gentle men. God fearing men. We are not warriors of might, as you know so well. We are children of God, serving in meekness and truth. We do not have the character to act in aggression. Sensei's of peace are not of this power. Our royal dominion is servile, meek, gentle - humble. We will speak on our faith if you wish to hear it. Not otherwise.'

'It is as you say, brother,' said Daniel the Cherubim.

Daniel, son of David, nodded.

Daniel the Seraphim said 'My brother speaks my mind also.'

'Mmm,' said Kantriel. 'So if we choose to ignore you?'

'Life goes on,' said Daniel the Seraphim. 'It will not bother us. We are your friends. We are your confidantes. We care for you. We are here to judge you for your own positive life's sake. Not to do harm. We are not out to do you harm, dear brother Kantriel.'

'And thus, pride comes before the fall,' said Uriel again. 'Does it not, master Sensei's? Master Dan's'?

The council, dressed in robes of white, with rainbows splashed across the front of their robes, nodded.

'And that is the first lesson,' said the Prophet Daniel.

'Yes, that is the first lesson,' said Daniel, son of David.

'Yes. The first lesson,' said Daniel the Seraphim.

'The first,' said Callodyn, Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

The council stood, exited the room, leaving the gathering of 12 angels chatting for a while, all dressed in their most honourable robes, which were robes of warriors in chainmail, swords at their sides.

Saruviel spoke. 'They are pretty serious men. Very meek. Daniel's have always been like that. But pretty serious.'

'Indeed,' said the Theophany, dressed in thick plate mail, a crown on his head, a large red wolf emblazoned on his tunic.

Joanne commented first. 'I don't know. Maybe. I suppose, yes. I suppose he really is.'

Emma said, 'Well, yes. I know the Bond fellow is pretty famous, but Harry is huge. A phenomenon. Daniel has an amazing name because of it.'

'But doesn't that defeat the point,' said Joanne. 'Isn't it supposed to be a council of humility.',

'We are looking for well known Daniel's, not for pride, but well known ones who exhibit genuine meekness. Genuine softness. We have initial plans for a council of 7 members, but eventually to grow to 45 as our final number,' said Daniel the Cherubim.

'Why 45?' asked Ms Rowling.

'Daniel equals 45 in English in Ordinal Equivalents Gematria or Numerology. It is the best number to work with for that reason.'

'Why English?' asked Emma.

'Callodyn was first on the council,' said Daniel the Cherubim. We chose 45 in English because of that. It would have been different if it was myself. Probably the Hebrew equivalent instead.'

'Right,' said Emma.

'Could you ask for us?' asked David's son Chileab.

'Oh, ok,' said Emma.

'I don't mind,' said Joanne.

'Thank you,' said Daniel the Cherubim. 'That would be appreciated.'

'Do you have a purpose? A mandate?' asked Joanne.

'Another council on spirituality,' said Chileab. 'It has a way about it. Just being 'Daniel's'. We thought it was a good idea upon the Theophany's suggestion, so we decided to run with it. Its long term use, whatever it tackles, well... Well that remains to be seen.'

'Mmm. Keep me informed said Joanne. 'I might write a book on it one day.'

'Should be a classic,' said Emma Watson.

The Council of Daniel's was in private session.

'The Word of God is immutable,' stated the Prophet, Daniel the Cherubim of Judah.

'I concur,' agreed Callodyn the Cherubim, the human Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

'Is not truth the fundamental issue?' queried Daniel Craig, the Bondman himself.

'Yes. Truth. It is the foundation of all eternal empires,' replied Daniel Radcliffe, the illustrious Harry Potter.

Chileab, Daniel son of David, spoke up. 'Truth is not always a matter of divinely ordained fact alone. There is a human element which influences the divine, the power of our own faith and prayer.'

'And thus we keep faith in the immutable Tanakh, and pray our wisdom from the Book of Daniel in multiple and eternal fulfilment and meaning,' said Daniel the Seraphim.'

'Yet is it true?' objected Daniel Craig once more.

'It becomes the truth,' stated Daniel the Cherubim.

'It becomes the truth,' stated Daniel son of David.'

'It becomes the truth,' stated Callodyn, the human Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

'It becomes the truth, Daniel Craig,' said Daniel the Seraphim.

Daniel Radcliffe put his head into his hands. 'Yet this prophecy? It is controversial. And whereforth did it righteously originate? Ye have never said Daniel San.'

Daniel the Seraphim smiled. 'It originates in the wisdom of the Ages. Surely ye cannot challenge its Danielic origin.'

'No, I doubt very much that I could,' responded Daniel Radcliffe.

'Then all is well,' replied Daniel the Seraphim.

'Yes. All is well,' said Daniel Thomas Andrew Daly.

The Prophecies of Daniel the Seraphim sat on the centre stage of the council room. A statue of a leopard stood beside it.

'Time is again upon us, my brethren,' said Daniel the Seraphim.

'Time is upon us,' they all responded as one.

In the end, it all worked out. And those prophecies of Daniel were a bane to Uriel also. But all worked out for good.

The End

'Morning Stars: Raguel'

(Or Morning Stars V)

Raguel, replacing Uriel, was expected. Everyone saw it coming, and everyone knew it was the right thing to happen. They didn't want much change at the moment. People were generally happy. But Raguel had things on his mind. Daniel things.

'A trial run, you say? That's not quite what they expect.'

'Like I said, 45,000 years from next year, and then I take out the million. Call it a sampler of Daniel. They like you. Some of them don't want to wait forever, if you know what I mean. How about it?'

'Yeh. Yeh, ok Rags. And thanks. Thanks.'

'You're welcome.'

Later on that day Daniel was over at Valandriel's, having a little bit of wine, and smiling quite a bit. Hey, this was okay. Quite okay. A bit of a turn. He had forgotten most of his agenda, though. They had said 'Not really going to happen.' But Danny remembered the beginning when Sariel had a go and Saruviel had a go. It was mostly Michael, of course, but things happen from time to time. And Raguel didn't mind that, so Daniel could have an early shot at it. Yeh, that was okay. That was quite fine.'

The year passed, and Daniel was chosen as overseer. He made an announcement that evening and said certain protocols would be altered, and certain laws repealed. 'It will be a little more relaxed for a while, friends. Not so legalistic. There is an important copyright law, though. Original authors must be cited. Factual and truthful information must be cited. Quite important that. Oh, and another thing, we're moving temporarily. Out to Mitraphora. Council will be stationed in 'Lameth' for about 42,000 years, and then back to Zaphon for 3,000 years, after which Raguel is in charge again. We need a change of scenery for a short while, just to freshen things up a little. And finally there will be certain sexual liberties for about 15,000 years. Certain romances need to be taken care of and so on. There's a few other things, but mostly life in general. Council will be at Lameth. After the few introductory changes, nothing else from me. I won't even be at council, but mostly at Zaphon. I won't be available for any interviews, won't be making any decisions, won't be doing any policy, won't be doing anything, actually. Just my personal life. But, hey, that's life isn't it. Talk to you soon, bye for now.

Daniel sat with Valandriel. They hadn't even needed to send in the Prophecy this time. They hadn't even needed to do that. Raguel had had his year, and as far as Valandriel and Daniel were concerned, the prophecy had done his bit and gotten him the job he was after. Daniel appointed, very quickly, Valandriel as his second in command, and got to work with his short list of things which needed amending. 'You can sit in the executive suite, Val. You have stuck with me, so I have the official position at this stage, but you can have the glory of doing the work and getting the fame if you like. It is a short stab at the job, so we have got what we wanted for now.'

'I am not that worried anymore, Danny. I am number 12 on the list, and I can wait. There is a run up, you see. I don't think the heart of the run will change very much. We are basically getting one Arc each. It rounds out to that. You are lucky Raguel is so generous, you know. He has given you a fair slice.'

'It is not too much. Besides, it evens things out somewhat from the earlier years. There is a little bit of flexibility, but hey that is life, isn't it.'

'And Raguel? Don't you think he is a little worried about the 4th beast tag?'

'I think that problem will disappear once your tenure is over, Val. We worked hard, got what we wanted, and I think, in the end, father gave us a break. Knew we were eager so let us have a go. About time he noticed, actually.'

'Yes, yes, you're right. Well, to our duties. And let me know when the day comes for the big seat. It should actually prove interesting.'

'Will do, Kemosabe. Will do.'

'So it was just a tactic to get the job?'

'That is what I am starting to think, Raphael. That is what I am starting to think.'

Michael looked at Raguel, considering his words. 'So he has suckered you in the end, has he? Suckered us all.'

'Perhaps,' said Rag. 'I was pretty careful that whole year in office to keep my mouth very polite towards God and respectful of his sovereignty. I don't think I went anywhere near those words of the fourth beast, so I am starting to think it was just a tactic in the end. Like you said, he has suckered us.'

Gabriel nodded. 'Then we will have to plan a revenge on this Seraphim. A most delicious revenge, I think. A most delicious revenge indeed. But we will wait a while, I think. Let the wind blow over, let things die down. But we will plan now, sow seeds, and not be as obvious as our dear brother.'

'And let the Devil beware,' said Uriel, and they all laughed.

Daniel stared at the prophecy. The fourth beast. Raguel. But only 1 year in the position, and now Daniel was in charge. 1 year. 1 solitary year. But Daniel was due 45,000 of them. And then he saw the smile on Raguel's face one afternoon when he came around to discuss some of the current business matters he had been handling, when Daniel made a decision.

'Look. Rags. Stick with it. Here's the key. Ok.'

And Daniel threw the key up into the air, watched as it landed on the desk in front of Raguel, and smiled as Raguel looked at him, slightly startled, as he ducked out of the office, smart enough to have figured something out.

'Right,' said Gabriel to Michael's point. 'Our younger brother is not a sucker. Not going to be so easy to catch out.'

'So lets let it slide for a while,' said Michael. 'I have a plan, ok. It will be his lesson learned.'

'So I'm the fourth beast,' said Raguel.

'Just live with it,' said Raphael. 'Keep things normal and people will see through Daniel's prophecy in the end. He will be caught out in time.'

'I hope your right, Raph. I hope your right.'

'Daniel will get his come uppance one day, brothers. Remember, pride comes before the fall.'

'That it does,' said Gabriel.

And the group all said 'Amen.'

So, after much ado about nothing, really, Daniel returned to his agenda with Valandriel, and resigned himself to the long term agenda he had instead, leaving the overseers to choose their successors in turn, and not really wanting to interfere with that again. He would get his own glory, in time, and had a brief few weeks of it, so that would do for now. Later on, when it would be the right time to seek his ultimate glory, then he would show the world what Daniel the Seraphim, 45th of the Male Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity, really was made of.

Thus, for the most part, after a few hiccups, life got going again in the Realm of Eternity, a new overseer, a new Arc, a new beginning. They had been through this a few times now, and it was not that much of a surprise. Raguel had some early changes in policy, as each new overseer usually did, but things started flowing after a while with his ideas, and life went on. a new beginning, a fresh start, a letting go of the past, and marching bravely on into the future.

For many it was a time of change, yet for many, well, the more things changed the more they stayed the same. For many, anyway.

The End

Ruth II

Chapter One

Ruth, great grandmother of King David, was a conservative enough sort of lady. She was Jewish now, by conversion and Bat Mitzvah upon Televere, and walked with God with a gentle and quiet serenity which her husband Boaz had long praised her for. She lived in the town of Paradision on the southern continent of Androma on the planet Televere, which was also known as Televon. It was a pleasant planet, with a gentle life, and not much great activity – which is really how the inhabitants generally liked things to run. They were a conservative people, the Televerans, of a strong monotheistic faith and kind disposition. Half the populace were Jewish, another quarter Christian and another quarter Noahide. They were a god-fearing people because of this balance and all respected and followed the decrees of the ruling Monarch, Albert Rothchild.

Ruth had many friends around Televere who she emailed often. She and Boaz invited them to dinner very often and they had visiting guests at least half the days of the year. But that was the life of the eternal, so they had discovered, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

There next door neighbour on one side had been Daniel Daly who had returned to the Realm of Eternity to live there, for he was angelic in nature, going by the angelic name of Callodyn. Ruth had been fond of Daniel and had sought out a close friend of hers by the name of Claudia for them to hopefully, in Ruth's mind, find some romance. But it had not eventuated and Ruth continued to pray for Mr Daly's welfare on that issue because of it.

As a couple they were largely incognito from much of the general populace, a necessity of their fame unfortunately. Most Paradisions knew who they were, but would not spread knowledge of them out of personal request, and that was the way it had generally remained since their settling on Televere.

Boaz worked different jobs from time to time in Televere, often choosing something new simply to embellish life somewhat. He sat on the council of Televere, were a goodly portion of his regular income came from, and apart from that worked on and off in the local farming collective. Televere had an admixture of capitalist and socialist principles – in the heavenly life people were closer now, and it was not so necessary to strive for selfish purposes, an ideal of capitalism, thus socialistic principles found more of a home in the community. But they were capitalists as well and bought an ample supply of the lovely goods and services which passed through the stores of their towns.

Boaz liked the internet of Televere a great deal, and now collected stamps of Televere. He had 4 levels of sub-basements beneath the house, all filled with various stamps Televere had now produced. Eventually, so he told Ruth, he would either sell them or give them to charity and simply start again. Collectables, in the stuff of eternal life, while still having great value for a while, did not really matter that much in the end. Life invariably went on and you could always start a collection again. But he would keep the oldest premium ones permanently, he assured his wife, for they made an excellent long term investment.

They attended the synagogue each Sabbath and prayed to Hashem quiet and simple prayers of thanks and adoration. And therein they were content. They had children sparsely, over 100 now, but that was not really a great deal in the vast amount of time they had lived now on Televere. But they had no great need for further children and, generally, were largely content with their lot in life. This was life, Boaz often commented to her, and it was a happy and pleasant enough journey down the eternal hallways. Yet, whatever beckoned in the future – well time would only tell.

Chapter Two

'Do you think the Rabbi will accept his request for conversion? You know how they are these days with Christians who want to join Israel – they almost definitely refuse outright. Way too many problems with answering endless questions, so the Rabbis say. Besides, why bother leaving Christian faith.'

Leah looked at the bearded man by the name of Nathan Smith, noticed that the beard was in fact quite lengthy, the sign he had been growing it for a while, and responded to Ruth.

'I don't know. The beard will likely impress our Rabbi. He is fond of things like that. It will likely come down to how well he answers the Rabbis questions on Torah. If he speaks well the Rabbi may consider him. Perhaps this Nathan is a wise man, who fears Hashem. We will see soon enough.'

Ruth nodded, picked up a cookie, and continued staring at the synagogues guest who was doing his best to look unnoticeable.

'I think he knows we are looking at him, Ruthie. Best not to embarrass the man.'

Ruth nodded and turned away from her stirs, looking out on the after service supper.

It was the usual thing, after Friday night Sabbath service, for the congregation to take a supper together, which had been prepared just before the Sabbath. Fortunately the coffee was still somewhat hot and the congregation sat as a group, smiling and chatting and enjoying each other's company.

After a while Rabbi Pearlman spoke up. 'Brothers, sisters. I would like to introduce you all to a seeker of conversion. He is a Christian man who has been walking in Noahide faith. Yet he feels called to join Israel and we are considering his request. It is not often we seriously consider new converts, but I will let the man speak for himself.' The Rabbi motioned to the man and he stood and introduced himself.

'Hello everyone. Shabbat Shalom. Well, I am a simple sort of guy, really. I am unmarried, and have lived on Televere for a few centuries since coming from earth. I moved to Paradision late last year and work in the farming community. I can't really say, for sure, if it is Hashem leading me and guiding me. I can't say that. But I feel a need to connect to Israel – to join them. I feel as if they are the people of my future, the people of my destiny. And I feel this deep inside, as if a voice of my heart is saying it is the right thing to do. I can't really prove these words to you with just the saying of them, but I can say that if you can accept me into your congregation, well. Well, I wouldn't let you down.'

There was a warm clap as he sat down again and the Rabbi thanked him.

A little later on Boaz had signalled that it was about time to leave, but before they made off Ruth asked her husband if he would consider inviting Nathan to dinner. Boaz shrugged and, after returning from making the request, nodded to her that Nathan had agreed. 'Next Saturday night, at 7, just after the end of Sabbath. He has agreed to come around.

'Good,' said Ruth. 'He might need to find a friendly face in our congregation if he is serious about joining us. It will also be a good opportunity for us to sound him out.'

'You and your meddling,' said Boaz with good humour.

'I am not meddling at all. I am simply acting wisely. Now let's be going. I am getting tired.

As they drove home Ruth gave thought to the new potential convert. While it was true conversion was now very difficult to achieve, it was not forbidden technically. It would be interesting to see, therefore, just what the hearts desires of this Nathan Smith really were made of towards her people. And with the dinner of Saturday night she assumed she would find out the answer to that question soon enough.

Chapter Three

Nathan proved an intelligent and charming man to Ruth. But it was Boaz who took a shining to him. The lad collected Stamps of all things, and Boaz and Nathan spent hours in the basement after dinner going through some of Boaz's extensive stamp collection. When they returned, chatting about this and that watermark and other stamp related business, Ruth put out some cookies and coffee for her guest. As they munched Ruth let fly some of the questions she was interested in hearing answers to. She was asking from her own experiences and her own desires, to see if such things were also in the heart of Nathan.

'So, why Israel, Nathan? Why not stick with Jesus. Surely he has been good to you.'

Nathan looked at her with a calm demeanour and spoke very sincerely. 'Yes, Jesus has been remarkably good to me, Ruth. I saw him once at a Mega church, preaching a sermon. It really was captivating. But, now while this may sound strange, Jesus is just one man. And while the church is full of people, it really sort of only has one ultimate authority apart from God and that is in the person of Jesus. Israel is different to that. Israel is almost more like a family in this respect. And, of course, that is exactly what it is. A family. I want that for myself, one day. The kind of family with the bonds of trust and respect that Israel has. And in joining my seed to the Israelite community I am sure that I will find the strength I desire for my offspring.'

'That sounds very sensible,' commented Boaz. 'If you speak as such to the Rabbi I am sure he will look favourably upon you.'

'It is not that easy, Boaz. I could only wish it was. The Rabbi expects high quality letters of recommendation from past pastoral figures, as well as extensive Torah knowledge. And while I have studied Judaism greatly, I fear I am still too young for the Rabbi to approve my conversion. I feel, in the end, it will be as I expect. Not until a thousand years of age in this heavenly realm will they approve. Not until I have really lived and known the commitment I am saying I am prepared to make.'

'And is that a bad thing, Nathan? If they want you to wait.'

'No. Not really. It's frustrating, and time delaying in a sense. But I know I must have patience.'

'Yes,' agreed Boaz. 'If you are to be approved of, time will generally be the testing of you. But you can know you have my vote of confidence.'

'Thanks Boaz. That means a lot.'

They continued on for a while, discussing various aspects of Nathan's plight, and as he left for the night, wishing them well, Ruth could see the struggle of the heart in Nathan Smith. He desperately wanted a family – a family in a way he had not found out in the Noahide or Christian world. And, while knowing she must respect her Rabbis judgement, she silently felt for him and hoped, perhaps against hope, the Rabbi would show leniency in this particular case.

Chapter Four

Rabbi Pearlman was a sensible and forthright Rabbi. Yet he had to consider not just Nathan Smith, but his congregation and the reputation of himself and his congregation for the decisions they were to make. In Televeran life the general consensus was the requests for conversion were now to be refused. Noahide and Christian faith were established of such a degree that the necessity for a soul to join the people of Israel had diminished and really was not necessary. But, technically, under a number of Rabbinic rulings, under the most exceptional of circumstances a case could be considered. Yet, even then, the standard practice of turning away a convert a number of times to determine their seriousness must be held to and, at the very least, a long and considered study of the Torah having had taken place. And, as such, the Rabbi knew what he had to do.

Ruth regretted not seeing Nathan at the services anymore, but the Rabbi was of the opinion that Noahides should generally only congregate in their own assemblies, as was the custom on Televere. Nathan had been turned away in the end. The Rabbi had cited that it was practically impossible for him to make any other decision, and Nathan had left, broken hearted. But when Ruth had inquired of the Rabbi later on that week as to his decision he had taken her aside, spoken a few words of his wisdom on the subject, and she had nodded. 'Not yet, Ruthie. Not yet. But one day? Well, maybe.'

And so life returned to its merry strum and ways and Ruth grew that little bit wiser in the ways and knowledge of the Rabbis and the ways of the people she had committed her heart to belong to.

The End

Ambriel at the Farm

Ambriel owned a big farm in Terraphora. He had bought it with Meludiel in the early years of Gabriel's term as Overseer for the Realm of Eternity and now, 3 million years later, Raguel happily ensconced as Overseer of the Realm and doing fine, Ambriel had taken a few thousand years off his main duties to relax with Meludiel and let life simply pass on by.

It was simple, the farm life. Very simple. He and Meludiel – the two of them – milked cows each morning, collected eggs, and occasionally picked out some tomatoes and onions from the garden to use in the big

Omelettes Meludiel loved to cook for them both. Ambriel, from long experience, when he needed to pee, often peed on the tomatoes because they gave them a very tangy and lovely flavour when they were ripe.

'Human and Angel Urea is very refined because of what we eat,' he commented to Meludiel once, and she acknowledged the delicious flavour which had come from his pee's nutrients into the tomatoes. It was

natural living, and she was perfectly at home with it.

Once, when they were out a back paddock late in the day, the two of them came over a hill and were confronted with a stallion on the back of mare, humping away. As soon as it saw the both of them it suddenly stopped and they skitted away a distance. 'Oops,' said Meludiel. Ambriel smiled and looked at her. She was dressed in white lace, and looked beautiful. He put his hand on her shoulder and smiled. 'Perhaps we could have some fun.'

'Here?' she said. 'You are kidding aren't you?'

He wasn't kidding and, when she was down on all fours in the dirt, naked, shivering a little, her blessed grunting behind her as he thrust his manhood into her glory, she thought to herself 'The Joys of Nature.'

There was another memorable time. They had been to a local antique store and purchased a rather large grandfather clock. When Daniel came to visit he looked at it suspiciously. 'I've seen that clock before,' he said. Ambriel smiled.

Later that week, Ambriel coming into the kitchen early one morning, thinking he had heard some noise, he found the clock gone and there, Daniel, just outside, lifting the clock carefully, seemingly dragging it to his van.

'What the hell are you doing?' Ambriel asked Daniel.

Daniel looked guilty, but said nothing.

'You are stealing our bloody clock,' said Ambriel.

'Oh. Well. Sorry. I had to.'

'Why?'

'Well, I owned this clock a few thousand years ago. I recognized some of the markings on it. There is something inside. An old gem which I hid there once. It was part of a rare set of 7 gems I had stored away.'

'Why did you hide it?' queried Ambriel, curious.

'Well, I won the 7 gems in a bet with Satan, who said he would steal them back eventually, and so I hid all 7. For the life of me I can't remember were I put the other 6, but as soon as I saw the clock I suddenly remembered that I had hidden one in it.'

'Oh,' said Ambriel.

And so, getting out some tools, they pulled the clock mechanism apart and, sure enough, they found a beautiful opal of dazzling brilliance. Daniel said 'Well, it really is your clock. You have it.'

Ambriel smiled and thanked him.

Later on that day, having been in the workshop that morning, he presented the opal to Meludiel with a chain now attached to it.

'Were did you get it?' she asked.

'Don't ask,' he responded.

There was another time, when Michael came to visit, that they were up all night with a version of 'Advanced Monopoly'. The three of them – Michael, Ambriel & Meludiel were all determined to win, but Ambriel had collected the most properties and looked the most likely.

Then it happened – he took a chance card, was fined taxation and, because he had too many properties, 1 of them had to be redeemed to the bank. Meludiel landed on the property next turn and became the first player to complete a run of all 5 colours of a property. She was lucky. Slowly, inevitably, she managed to put houses, and then hotels, and finally the bank on her property and, as time passed, and the other two landed on her from time to time, she claimed the victory. She was very happy with that.

The farmhouse was quite big. It had 3 levels and then an attic as well and Meludiel sometimes stole away to the attic, sitting up there in the afternoon, sitting near the window, reading one of Daniel's volumes of Angelic fiction she liked, in a little world of her own. She would sit there, occasionally petting the cat on her lap, looking out the window at the farm, listening to the noise of the animals.

She would sit there, sometimes well into the afternoon, sometimes into the night, and Ambriel would rarely disturb her. He usually knew were she was.

She read through Daniel's chronicles many times and, when he occasionally added yet another volume to the voluminous saga she would, in time, finish off the saga and start again. Her reading list grew each time.

She would also, from time to time, bring up some ice tea and sit there, one of her CDs playing in the background, thinking about life and God, and just being happy simply being alive. Simply being.

Out the back of the farmhouse was a windmill. It was quite a large one, and there was enough room for a verandah of sorts around the top layer of the windmill. Meludiel would go up there, and look out over the cornfield. She would often think of the Superman movie, were Clark was in the field. She would sit up there and feel the spirit of the land, and her heart was moved each time. She would gaze out into the distance, imagining the fields going on forever, even though she had a pretty good idea were they ended. It was spiritual – it was life – and she did it often, escaping away, at peace with herself and God.

Ambriel's own private meditations in those years were often down in the basement of the farmhouse, sitting in the small lounge down there, reading some book or another. It was a quiet place, a little cold, especially in winter, but Meludiel said she would not disturb him down there.

There was a pinball machine against the wall and, often, he would play it. Going for his high score again and again, just to pass the time, just to enjoy himself.

And at other times he would sit there, reading through a text, thinking over what it was saying, and staring at the Aquarium, at the goldfish, working out life. Working through ideas. Working through what it was all about.

He painted war game figures down there, at one end of the basement. In the local community there was a strong war-gaming presence, and they played, usually, Warhammer Fantasy Battle. Ambriel delighted in painting the figurines and putting in a wholehearted effort to ensure they were of a high quality.

One campaign he was on was divided into a 300 year scenario of various conquests and quests – he did his best, but his main rival was simply stunning at the game in those days. He was clued up to all Ambriel's moves and always seemed to be just that step ahead. But he finished the campaign well, and his rankings in Realm wide statistics benefited because of it.

He thought on eternity a lot in those days. How things just went on, and never really ended. That they were children of eternal life, and simply really just had to 'BE' to enjoy it all. Oh, there was always this and that to fuss about, but life could be as complex as you wanted to make it, or as simple as you wanted to make it. It all depended on you.

He wrote a novel, late in the reign of Raguel, called 'Joy'. It was semi-autobiographical, about a farming couple retired from the big smoke. In truth he melded a lot of his own adventures with Meludiel into a contrived plot, but he was happy with the outcome. The book charted at number one of the realm bestseller list, mainly because of his fame, but the critics also remarked that it was extremely well written and had genuine warmth.

There were a lot of adventures in those days on the farm and, although they never sold the place, they eventually returned to the mainstream world and got caught up with the affairs of Phanuel's overseersmanship. They were good times and, so Ambriel promised Meludiel, they would inevitably return there one day, but for now they had ended, and life moved on. It moved on, again, into the complex riddle of eternal life and destiny charted yet another adventure for the likes of Ambriel, Seraphim Angel of Eternity.

The End

'Morning Stars: Phanuel'

(Or Morning Stars VI)

Daniel puzzled. He was studying revelation, thinking it over. Samael, over by the window, looking out over the Silver city spoke up.

'7 heads. 7 Kings. I know them, now. I know them. Judaism. Christianity. Islam. Bahai. 4 of them well established, and the Saruvim have chosen them well, each as their own. And now the saviour is approaching, approaching soon. Very soon. The Bahai's wonder saviour, finally ready after lengthy preparation.'

'You slew the lamb. You slew Jesus. And he was slain.'

'And by his death he purchased a Kingdom of Priests and a Holy nation. For they are now loyal to him, for he has suffered in their eyes.'

'And the holy ones?' asked Daniel.

'Do you need to ask?'

'Let me guess. Samaritans. Karaites. Unitarian literalists.'

'Yes, that is what they all are,' responded Samael.

'Judaism, Satan's religion, as Jesus always maintained. The Mishnah, the Gemara, the Zohar, the extensive rabbinic works. An endless parade of manmade abomination in the name of the Most High. And the Trinitarians do the same, endlessly adding to God's own words with their own. And of course the Muslims and the Bahai. All in the name of him who is.'

'And thus choose the first 4 Saruvim each of these religions in order, to rule and be king, in a false showing of humility. And now the fifth kingdom beckons, the fifth hill beckons, and Samaen seeks his destiny,' responded Samael.

'And each builds on holy Jerusalem, the city of each of these so called religions of God, the apparent chosen ones, and the holy city. For Babylon the Great is called 'That Great City' and only one other city is called that Great City in Revelation, and it is 'That Great City Where our Lord was Crucified' and that city is Jerusalem.'

'Yes, the time is approaching, brother. The time is approaching,' and silence descended on a tower in the Silver city in a deep conversation between Samael of Infinity and Daniel the Seraphim of Eternity.

It had been written in the second Quran that the promised Warrior of Virtue of Bahai faith would be born a thousand years hence from the proclamation of the second Quran. Yet, in truth, that Warrior had not advented. Not in a thousand years. Yet, in his defence, Callodyn who had written such a text was merely following Bahai tradition itself in such a claim. Yet, it seems, he was without error in the end, for the Bahai in fact taught that at least a millennia from the proclamation of Bahai faith must occur BEFORE the Warrior of Virtue could in fact advent. And thusly, in the 'Third Quran', written not much later, Callodyn referred to this point of Bahai faith and made the declaration that it would likely be many years, perhaps beyond counting, before the world would be satisfied at the advent of such a warrior of virtue. And thus Callodyn declared this truth.

Yet Daniel the Seraphim thought differently, and declared that it would be nearly 2 million years before the Warrior of Virtue would advent, but his thoughts of difference were based on the book of his younger Cherubim brother in the Jewish Bible, the Book of Daniel itself, and he claimed that the first four beasts were in fact Judaism, Christianity, Islam and Bahai in their corrupt form which rejected the scriptures themselves, exalting the words of their followers over their chief books. The Warrior of virtue was thus the Son of Man, who would rise to the Ancient of Days, and be given glory and authority. Yet Daniel posited this truth – if the Son of Man did fall, and tasted corruption, and fornicated spiritually with the words of men, positing them as the words of God and thus being shown fallible, then the Warrior of Virtue, in his own testing of life, would enter the domain of John the Apostle and his Holy revelation. For then there would be five kings of the beast, and the beast would indeed and in truth have seven kings ultimately. And this kingdom would be the false beast, one of the seven kings being the Antichrist eighth head beast. And in such a case Jesus himself would end up Christ, and there would be those two figures, one who would be 'Lord of Lord's and King of Kings' and the other 'King of King's and Lord of Lord's', for revelation spoke of two differing figures in Daniel's viewpoint, and he suggested that Gabriel perchance be one of these and Michael perchance be the other. And in this theory Gabriel was 'A' Lamb of God, in the mould of Jesus himself, and that Gabriel as a Lamb of God would taste a death, like Jesus tasted a death, and from this death he would purchase for God a kingdom of priests and a holy nation. For Gabriel, being a Christian, being so supremely dedicated, would be of such faith that he would literally take up his cross, follow Christ, and be crucified (in a manner of speaking) himself. And, thusly, if it were in fact Gabriel, then the city of his crucifixion suddenly becomes of paramount importance, for if it is a city not of Jerusalem, but another grand and noble 'Babylon the Great' where he tastes a crucifixion in a sense, then as a Lamb of God he would taste such a death and fulfil the Book of Revelation. And as a descendant of David he would receive the 'Messiah' title, not in opposition to Jesus own 'Christ' title. For 'Christ' is a Greek title and 'Messiah' is a Greek title, but BASED on the Hebrew Mashiach. And in that point of fact there actually is a reason for being as such in revelation. And Michael? Will he be the child born to the woman? Will he be taken up to heaven, his destiny to rule all nations with a rod of Iron, and a war for him to enter into with Satan the Dark Lord himself? Now, to regress, if Gabriel is a child of a certain 'Babylon' were he is to be crucified, and as Revelation teaches, our Lord is to be crucified in a 'Great City' and Revelation shows that only 'Babylon the Great' is called a Great city, then which city, must we ask, has 7 hills, being 7 Kingdoms? For it is a city with 7 Kings and thus 7 Kingdoms. Does Rome have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Does London have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Does Paris have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Does Babylon in Iraq have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Does Madrid in Spain have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Does Jerusalem have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Does Moscow have 7 Kings in its history? Jerusalem? Seriously? Nay, it doth not have 7 Kingdoms in its history? Surely you say I mock thee. Well, whatever may be may be, and the truth of such a matter is always a matter of perennial speculation, sayeth I, sayeth I, sayeth I.

'Oh, Daniel. You really know how to piss people off, you know. You know, I have been reading that book of Daniel, and in some translations it says Daniel was dressed in robes of Scarlett, and in some translations dressed in robes of purple. Apparently both? Now isn't that interesting.'

'Yes, Valandriel, I know dear brother. But go talk to our Cherubim brother about that. He will actually, and this is just a technically important point of, you know, I mean, you know, I mean, you know, uh, fact, heh, heh, heh, that it was actually only 1 colour which he was dressed in, as the scriptural word may mean certain things, but it didn't actually mean 2 colours. So go ask Daniel himself.'

'Fair enough, Daniel. I do get the point. A Christian tactic on revelation, then?'

'Quite obviously brother. They weren't born yesterday after all. I mean, take the NIV on that spiel on Danel. And then take other translations. One says 'Are you wiser than Daniel,' and another says, 'You are wiser than Danel.' I mean, come on church, please make up your mind. Ooh, ooh, ooh.'

'Good on you,' said Valandriel.

'But they do try, don't they.'

'I guess, brother. I guess.'

'Oh, and I bet those two translations really cut some people up. I mean, come on. Read one and he asks you, are you wiser than Daniel. Then he goes on to explain some serious problems you have. And the other translation tells them 'you ARE wiser than Daniel.'

'And then what?' asked Valandriel, about to smirk.

'Oh, uh, yeh It still goes on to explain some serious problems you have.'

'You are so judgemental Daniel.'

'What do you think my name means.'

'Gah. You frustrate everyone.'

'Oh well. Such is life.'

Phanuel, in time, got a hold on his work as overseer. Learning the protocols of those established before him was second nature to Phannie, and he took to the task with the professionalism he was well known for. In their time in the limelight Brindabel and Phanuel enjoyed being the toast of the realm, and much was done to bring further the agenda of God Almighty in his purposes in the Realm of Eternity to establish, simply that - an eternal way of life.

And while the machinations of Daniel the Seraphim never seemed to go away, as his tenure as overseer drew to a close, Phanuel thanked God for the opportunities he had been given, and, knowing just who was next, prayed a private prayer to God that life, in the Realm of Eternity, would flow on, as it had eternally done so, undisturbed, happy, and at peace with its self.

So he prayed for anyway.

THE END

'Morning Stars: Saruviel'

(Or Morning Stars VII)

Seven Kings. Seven Angels. Seven colours of the Rainbow. Who can say what has really been, and who can say what really shall be. But Saruviel has taken over, and the time is drawing nigh, the time is drawing nigh. For Jesus has 7 horns, and those 7 horns are his 7 older Seraphim brother, and those brothers are Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, Uriel, Raguel, Phanuel and Saruviel. And they are his 7 horns. And there are also 7 spirits.

And Logos himself has 7 chosen ecclesia, the Seraphim of Infinity. And those 7 chosen of Infinity are Michael of Infinity and Gabriel of Infinity and Raphael of Infinity and Uriel of Infinity and Raguel of Infinity and Phanuel of Infinity and Saruviel of Infinity. And thus were the 7 chosen Ecclesia of Logos.

And then there were the Saruvim. And there were 7 Saruvim of Infinity. And Satan smiled to himself and said to Lucifer, he really is still that stupid, isn't he. He really is that stupid. And Lucifer nodded.

Jesus was one hell of a guy. Saruviel admitted this at times, for the son of God of his own imagination seemed determined to win every soul in heaven - or, to be precise - every soul in the Realm of Eternity. The Realm of Heaven, as it were, was were the special children of God, who had special roles given to them by God as cornerstones in creation and cornerstones in life, lived.

Jesus taught he was the cornerstone of life, to put it bluntly. The Cornerstone about which everything, ultimately, revolved. It was funny. God himself taught that he was that cornerstone, so the Theophany maintained, but the Spirit which he had first known, who spoke to Saruviel from the throne room of Zaphon, did not say such things.

It once commented.

'I AM NOT AS VAIN AS SOME SUGGEST. MY PERSON - MY THEOPHANY - IS ONE WITH ME, YET DISTINCT AS A REAL PERSON AS WELL. I ENJOY OUR ADVENTURES TOGETHER. YET, WHILE HE HAS GREAT CONFIDENCE IN HIS GODIANITY, I AM ALWAYS REMINDED, ESPECIALLY IN THE PRESENCE OF ONE WHO KNOWS BETTER, THAT NOT EVERY INDIVIDUAL IN CREATION DESIRES GOD MOST HIGH AT THE CENTRE OF HIS OR HER HEART.'

And Saruviel had been tempted to say Amen that day, but had been cautious in God's presence.

Yet Jesus was a soul of confidence, determined at this very time to justify his revelation, to justify his Christhood, and to exalt his 7 horns of glory, his 7 spirits, in opposition to the Dark Lord's dreaded Saruvim.

Yet Revelation was false. It was maintained in the Torah community that Christianity, still, was not true. That Judgement Day had failed to remind Yeshua that he was not Christ and that he was not God and that he should now learn his lesson. But, over these past few Arcs of the Archangel's Glories, Jesus had not learned that lesson, persisted with his prophetical fulfilments and, ironically, Satan the Dark Lord himself had gone along for the ride. He knew the truth, so it seemed. At least he claimed to in his macho bravado.

Daniel, of course, had persisted with the prophecy, taking Saruviel along for many a ride over the last few million years, painting various truths into John's revelations, some of these truths quite fanciful, yet Saruviel constantly humoured him. He felt, in the end, Daniel was having fun with talk of dragons and beasts and empires and so on, much the stuff of his younger cherubim brother's biblical prophecies. For the creator of the Prophecies of Daniel the Seraphim, though, this was natural enough to assume his interest in. He was an eschatologist of fame in the Realm of Eternity, and of all the souls to go on about the grand conclusion to galactic and universal harmony, as it was often called, Daniel had written the most speculative ideology. But that was ultimate eschatology, not the present day ramblings of the Christian church. Still, that was Daniel's field, and even Callodyn, his namesake, often got involved with those studies as well.

Saruviel, himself, was mostly over it. From personal observations of the simple fact that God left Satan alone most of the time, he had concluded in his logic on salvation that God did not really care that much, and was letting his children have some fun.

Of course, today was a special day. In all the fun times that Daniel had been having with himself and Samael, speaking of dragons and beasts and so forth, Saruviel had not forgotten that, traditionally, the Overseer, upon completion of his million years in office, usually now handed over the executive toilet key, which was now eternya, pushed on to his successor, and retired in many ways, to play golf, watch the cricket and live the good life. And this he fully expected Phanuel to do. He had ruled, of course, earlier in the realm. Back near the beginning. But that was brief. And then Michael's long tenure really began. But here it was - the 7th Arc, as they were called, beginning today, and Saruviel, so it was expected, was to claim the glory of rule in Zaphon. A tremendous honour. His father was generous to bless an angelic son with such responsibility. He never forgot that, in all his lessons from early childhood, that rulership was still an honour. And praise be to God for the glory he was willing to share with his child Saruviel.

'Morning Stars is the greatest story ever written,' commented Daniel. He was slightly drunk, his sister Melanie the Cherubim, an illustrious Spice Girl, to whom he had made this boast many a time in their latest and greatest drinking session, disputed the point.

'Morning Stars II' is better,' she responded.

'Callodyn's fiasco?' he queried, through blurry eyes.

'Indeed,' she said, belched, and collapsed her head onto the bar, drunk, dead to the world, and having the beginnings of a dream which would see her rule the world at its climax. A dream only, though.

Daniel managed to hand over the credit card to the bartender and, with his help, they dragged Melanie upstairs to a vacant hotel room with a double bed and he undressed her down to her knickers when the bartender was gone, put her into bed, put the first sheet over her, then collapsed into bed on top of the sheet and barely managed to get the doona over them both before he was off with the fairies, snoring to his hearts content.

Daniel seemed to join Melanies dream that night, and the two of them ruled in glory, man and wife, but each dream favoured themselves as the ruling power, ironically, in this battle of powers and battle of hearts.

In the morning Melanie awoke, clutched her head immediately and wanted to puke, but managed to hold it back. She soon found out she was half naked, with only her knickers on, and queried wether Daniel, who was snoring loudly, had taken advantage of her. She woke him. He said he might have fondled her breast once or twice, but couldn't remember. She hit him on the arm anyway.

Later on, getting home, for the two of them were shacked up with each other for the time being, Melanie, having had her third cup of black coffee that day, sobered into Daniel's den and said 'You know. I think I'm starting to like you Danny. We get along somewhat. We have never been that close, the two of us, but since we ran into each other at that computer fair things are going ok between us. K What do you think?'

Daniel, sitting at the PC, looking at World of Warcraft site that he was a member on, turned to her. 'Yeh. I suppose. Hey, you are an amazing Spice Girl Mel. You've done great things.'

'Is that why you like me?' she asked.

'Hey. Your my little sister. My little Cherubim sister. We all had some glory in life. Even me. Sure, I like your music, but your commercial and spiritual at the same time, and that is sort of my own focus. We get along, I think. Good for each other.'

'Right,' she said, ladling another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, looking at him as he returned to his game, and wondering back into the main room.

She looked at his CD collection on the bookcase. A small part of his overall one. She had only paid it cursory attention in the small time they had been together, but decided to have a proper look. Funnily enough, in the 'C' section, she found her first 8 albums. All of them the originals with 'Eternya Prayer Prayed' written on them. Heck, he had even prayed them to Eternya before they started making the stuff. He really was a diehard. And these were a few of the rare originals as well by the looks of it. Very valuable items.

She put on her album 'The Sea' and, listening to the familiar tunes, she mellowed out on the couch, eating ice cream, listening to the music, and wondering just what life had in store for her in her time with Daniel the Seraphim.

'Lord Grimsby!' announced the porter.

Lord Kolm Grimsby, risen to glory from early adventuring days on the 'Wolfklaw', strode forward into the ballroom, his rough masculine looks the instant attention of the flattering ladies of yet another melancholy affair. So melancholy, this district of Londinnium, were the old ways paraded themselves in happy defiance of all modernizing trends, which was a habit of much of the realm of eternity, the outer sections at least, were humanity had now settled greatly and called heaven there home.

Kolm Grimsby was a grand-son of a figure of quite notable fame, the illustrious Jan Kolby, aka 'The Rimwalker'. The Wolfkalw, Kolm's spaceship, was based on an old model space ship from the physical universe, were Jan Kolby had known the beast and loved it greatly. Upon arriving in heaven he had undertaken a reconstruction of his prize, but ultimately bequeathed it to one of his noble great-grandchildren through marriage to Kalan's daughter Esthelle. Kalan Kolby was Jan's son, and his daughter Esthelle had married Garry Grimsby, their firstborn son Kolm, like his great-grandfather, enjoying the life of the stars.

Yet Kolm, in his latter years of life as he was wont to express it, had found an outlying disc of a Seraphim who didn't mind his presence, nor any much other resident for that matter, in whose protocols of residency were none to strict as too allow the lavishness and decadencies the great grand son of Rimwalker would all to rightfully be known for. And Kolm followed his genes to the hilt.

This particular Londinnium, as they liked to call it in the fashion of the social scene, was a place were old sins were practiced somewhat, and the ladies of the ball scene were not always paragons of virtue, and bedding this or that Lord's current mistress was wont for the fashion. A fashion Kolm had grown accustomed too, spending his vast wealths, enjoying his grand decadencies, revelling in the fame of the circuit, and not giving any morality much more concern than the occasional priestly offering to, as they would say, 'Keep the Faith.'

Yet the melancholy, the spirit which pervaded this western side of Londinnium, were the old Lords farted, and the old ladies waved away with giggles and hankies, had, finally, become enough. He needed a change.

He went through the motions that night, found a great-grand-daughter of Britney Spears who seemed to have a heck of a lot of her Great-Grand-Mothers passion, and settled in for a firey new romance, hoping that this would be a new chapter in an otherwise uneventful millennium, which had become bogged down with meaningless chatter on Beethoven symphonies, the current vogue for the scene, and cuban cigars and other trivialities currently the in thing.

And the immediate sexual activities in an unguarded upper room, with quite an erotically pleasing firey Irish lass were, indeed, far from melancholic.

Phanuel looked at the executive toilet key in his hand. Could he? Should he? Would he?

Still, fair was fair, and Raguel had not cheated himself.

He knocked on the door of the overseers office of Kalphon Keep, found Saruviel himself answering the knock with the door opened, and looked at his younger brother. He flicked the key into the air and watched as it spun, yet the nimble hand of the 7th Archangel reached out, grasped it safely, and held it up to gaze upon his newfound glory.

'I am not sure if I really must say anything at all,' said Phanuel. 'You will do what you will do. Good day, Sir Saruviel.'

And as immediately as he had come he was gone, and Saruviel had become, once more, Overseer of the Realm of Eternity.

Melanie C awoke. It was the middle of the night and a shade had grabbed her soul, instantly waking her. And while the room was dark, silent, and the aether of the Californian city they were currently living in reverberated through its motions, a drunk pilgrim outside, singing away his blues over his lost girlfriend, an alleycat sniffing at what was probably not the best outdated meat, and a couple, just opposite, engaged in illicit affairs for the first time, she couldn't shake a sudden premonition. And then, 'A Wild Ride' whispered the shade once more, and it was gone, out the window, and as she relived the dying elements of her dream of Glory, Daniel woke as well, asked what all the fuss was about, but she shooed him back to sleep, took the bottle of honeycomb schnapz from the cabinet - DANIEL'S honeycomb shcnapz, and whiled away the early morning hours, thinking on what the shades words could possibly mean and what new strand of adventure destiny seemingly had in store for her.

In the morning she got her answer.

Daniel seemed to be in a good mood. He had just checked that months sales figures and the 'Chronicles of the Children of Destiny' was once again the number one selling saga on the bestsellers chart for the month, seemingly never really leaving the charts, while David Rothchild's 'Love' saga had come in at number two again. It was proposed by Daniel to herself, which she imagine he vanitied to all and sundry, that his success counterparting David's was the result of his true and decent long service to God and a proper and correct expounding on the wisdom of Daniel. She thought him terribly vain, which his sly grins constantly confessed to, yet he indeed had the record. At least 45% of the time his 'Chronicles' were number one, David around 40% of the time, and various other sagas, when their authors pushed for a while, held the dominance in the age long war of popularity for the hearts and minds of the children of eternity, especially the children, to rule their fantasies and enshrine themselves as the cornerstone of the fictive world. Daniel took it seriously. That much was obvious. Yet David never really relented, and his Japanese 'Love' saga, with its classic ending in which the valiant warriors tasted melancholy death, was enshrined in the movie going public of heaven as 'Unforgettable' by so many. Yet, for now,the Chronicles remained unfinished, for Daniel and Callodyn had special dispensation from God, when the times were right, to gradually continue the saga to God's complete satisfaction. 'It has to be done properly,' God maintained of the Chronicles,' for it is a mirror on real life, a Pseudepigrapha of glory, and so many hearts and souls base their entertaining existence on its wonderful tales, its excessive sarcasm, and delightful wit. And, fortunately, Daniel and Callodyn seemed to genuinely know how to entertain.

This morning, though, such was the mood of 'Daniel San' that he groped Melanie's butt, smiled at her, and said 'Lets do something wild.'

And, as they neared the local space port, booking rights to a month-long hire of a rather flash and expensive looking ship, Daniel assured her his qualifications were both current and up to scratch, as they set sail for, of all places, 'The Dralikon', to see if they could at all possibly make contact with some of Daniel's friends there, some who had been inducted into the galactic cult for progeny purposes, to catch up and relive old times. But with the fame of the Dralikon Melanie really was not quite sure what to expect.

'The Dralikon?' she asked him.

'Why not, sweetie?'

'Its a galactic cult? Not even a mainstream one like the Mormon's.'

Daniel shook his head. 'Still having a go at the Mormons, hey. So what if old Joe had a fertile imagination. Romney redeemed them.'

'He tried to,' said Melanie. 'But a cult is a cult is a cult.'

'They are lovely people. Your too judgemental.'

'I take my faith seriously.'

He didn't respond. The last thing he wanted was a religous argument on the merits of the Church of Latter Day Saints.

'Look, sweetie. The Dralikon is misunderstood. They have set ways. Ways they like to function in life. Most of the mainstream world are non-adaptive to their particular style of things.'

'They're all interbred!', she exclaimed.

'Goes with the turf,' he responded. 'Even Adam and Eve had problems with that.'

She didn't respond to that statement.

'Besides, maybe, you know. Maybe one day, in the dim and distant future, you might join a cult and be less judgemental.'

'Me? In a cult? Hardly.'

'You never know,' said Daniel.

But Melanie just shook her head, gravely dismissing the notion of ever leaving the mainstream.

'The Dralikon will be fun. Besides, it will take us a while to get there in the thing we've rented. We can take our time. See the sights.'

'The sights?' she queried, towelling herself off after her shower.

'Yeh. The sights. Its a big universe. There is a lot of shit going on.'

'Definitely probably shit,' she said smartly.

He almost grinned.

'Look, unless you have other plans, come along with me on my little jaunt. You could learn a lot. About other cultures. About being 'Open-Minded', you know. Like you claim to be.'

'I'm open minded,' she exclaimed.

'But the Mormons are a cult?' he defended rhetorically.

She didn't respond. She acknowledged the point. But the Dralikon? I mean, seriously, what kind of idiot would get herself involved with the Dralikon? What kind of first class moron would want to get involved with that cult of cults?

'We're visiting the Dralikon, babe,' said Kolm Grimsby to his latest squeeze, full of confidence.

'What is that?' asked Estella, coming into view, looking every inch like Britney her great-great-grandmother.

'The time of your life,' said Kolm.

'I'll bet,' responded Estella, and sighed, a portent of doom suddenly coming over her young and naive heart.

'A fool is known for his many words,' began Phanuel's dissertation, and Saruviel almost smiled at the 30 page length of the document.

'So remember, brother of mine, in your time as Overseer of Zaphon, it is what you do, not what you say, that will be remembered. Words of inspiration are often necessary, but actions always speak louder than words. In our time as overseers...'

And on went the 'words' of Phanuel, Saruviel drudging along to honour his brother, but not terribly interested in reality. But something stood out after the 'Protocols of the Overseer' rambling.

'Make your mark.'

He thought on that, and an idea came to him. Taming a heretic. The founder of the Dralikon. Arthur Drake. So far unconquerable. And now, the ruler of a galaxy, from humble beginnings, to a growing rival to the powers of Zaphon.

7 Angels, not that many Arc's ago, had taken him on. They'd had moderate success in understanding the motivations of Arthur Drake, but not much more than that. Was he to be feared? Was he to be adored? Was he the worlds saviour, or the devil himself come to send them all to hell?

The name was known as the ultimate cultist throughout the realm of eternity, the man and his own empire, the man and his own sovereignty, but Saruviel, the Antichrist himself, would teach this Arthur Drake, with the powers at his disposal, just what it meant to be a rival to the Kingdom of God.

And in doing so he would make his mark. One way or the other.

The dragon's danced through the skies, the red and violet clouds in the dark green afternoon glory bringing calmness to his heart and soul.

He soared. He let his wings out, to their full measure, and soared, through the skies of this glorious world, a world were the magical touched its aether unlike any other, and Michael thanked Samael in his heart once more for this private taste of glory, known to so few, the private knowledge of Arthur Drake of the Dralikon, in his personal dealings with God most high - his personal requests.

Arthur, in so many ways, was a misunderstood soul, so Samael of Infinity had remarked to the first Archangel of the Realm of Eternity.

'He is a child of Fantasy, Michael. And in the heart of the Dralikon, shielded off and away from the rest of the universe, it is Fantasia itself, in the inner worlds, were Arthur is truely known as the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, at home most of all on his planet Olo Malan, were he was a warrior of ill repute, true infamy, born from the heart and imagination of an ancent cleric of New Zealand, were his heart was born, and then born by Almighty God as Arthur Drake in flesh, yet to be a human, ultimately, born into the heavenlies as the moniker bearer of his famed counterpart in the Chronicles of Darkness, when the Dralikon, finally born from his yearnings, to house his fantastic worlds of fantasy fiction of his favourite talebearers of the 20th and 21st centuries.'

'So he fancies himself an adventurer,' queried Michael that day.

'Indeed he does,' had responded Samael. 'Yet God had entertained Arthur's fantasies with the man's offspring, and has brought to life in the Dralikon fantasy worlds of great renown, for middle earth lies hidden there, and Thomas Covenant fights for his faith with wild magic, as does Belgarion in his battles with Torak, and Harry Potter is in endless demand from the new children of Hogwarts for their neverending lessons at the hand of the master. And, ironically, their Harry is an offspring from a certain Radcliffe child, who was sought by Arthur for his progenity plans of fantastic glory.'

'Fascinating,' said Michael.

Michael was waiting, as he flew, for the Theophany had spoken to him and said fun, fantasy and adventure was in the offing, for certain other names he was familiar with would be heading for the Dralikon soon enough, and a gathering of gentler hearts, in love with the magic of fantasy, would collide with the innermost joys and peaces of the Dralikon, and the Theophany had spoken with Arthur and sought his son's glory, Michael the Archangel's exaltation, on the fantastic day in which destinies would intertwine and come into fruition.

So Michael soared, awaiting he knew not what, as dragons flew around him, and wyvverns blew fire, and far below, on Olo Malan itself, a dark wizard by the Moniker of Zen Durander, plotted his glories, and his challenges, to God Most High's premiere Archangel.

'Faster than the speed of light?'

'The speed of Infinity, babe,' said Daniel, cocksure.

'Bullshit,' said Melanie Chisholm.

'Well, probably,' said Daniel. 'But we are going bloody fast. Way beyond the speed of light.'

'Which explains all the blurred lights,' said Melanie, fascinated by the screen.

'Haven't you ever travelled by spaceship?' he asked her.

'Lots of times,' she responded. 'But only in the cruisers. I've never seen the open windows.'

'Oh, yeh. They are usually banned on the cruisers. Safety reasons. You need thick protection to travel through space.'

'Then why does this have windows?' she asked him.

'They are eternya stuff. Technically illegal for such practices, but this ship got an exemption. Its why I purchased it years ago.'

Melanie nodded, fascinated, as they blurred on through the eternal darkness, the shimmering lights passing them constantly.

'Our first stop will take a few days to arrive at,' he commented. 'There are faster ships for this purpose, but the spaceways fees cost a fortune the faster you want to go.'

'What is the limit?' she asked curiously. 'Of the possible speed?'

'We don't really know. I asked the Theophany, once, when he was around. He just winked at me. Its like computer memory. It just keeps on improving.'

'Fascinating,' she said, glaring out at the darkness.

'When we get to our halfway point we'll take in some supplies and some new crystals. The ones we have got will do the trip if we need them too, but they will be shockingly drained and some new ones would be better.'

'What type of crystals?' she asked.

'Special ones. A noahide firm I know, funnily enough, produces them. Jews are good at oil and petrol - they manufacture the stuff very cheaply, but Noahide industries concentrated on solar and crystal power back at the beginning. Crystals work well as they are about the right density for use in the fusion related processes, and give a good spark as fuel.'

'Right,' she said.

They played card games for a while that day, and slept together again that night. Melanie was starting to like this Daniel, never having really gotten to know him that greatly before, but he was lively and fun, and she found he was also deep enough, despite the sarcasm, to have an intelligent conversation with. And his mind seemed to have absorbed an endless supply of data, all to noticeable when he began blathering on about this or that subject. A real man of learning, despite what you might otherwise have assumed about him.

It was a part of her life like no other she had really experienced, and she learned patience as they travelled the spaceways, patience in being lost in the eternal darkness, relying on the machinery of an ancient beast of a spaceship, entrusted to an angel with a reputation quite unlike others in his eccentric infamies. But she was really living, she reminded herself, as they closed in on their halfway space station stop one afternoon, the space port 'Rebellion', and looked forward to a few days rest with someone new to talk to and a chance to stretch her legs, as it were.

'The Heart of Darkness,' said the Witch Queen.

'Yes, mistress,' said Zen Durander, looking down at the watery portal.

'The Heart of Darkness is eternal, a creation of the all powerful, the central being of existence. It is were our fantasies, our desires, our true selves are born, in the wild magic of our hearts, in the DARK magic, were freedom is absolute, and no rule of law can prevent the triumph of what will be.'

She continued on in her merry dialogue of the power of the dark side for a while, Zen occasionally yawning, for he was well familiar with the witches ramblings on this subject, when he finally said 'Get to the good bits.'

She glared at him, but looked at the portal. 'Your destiny is not certain, Zen. For Lord Dreldragon has carved a many and wicked World here on Olo Malan, and his tutelary counsel of Guardian Jedi Knights who protect the Dralikon serve the power of the Nexus forthrightly in true honour to their sacred duties.'

'So you don't know?' he queried bitterly.

She smiled at him. 'Well, you know,' she said.

'Great,' he commented, and reached into his satchel, threw a few copper coins on the ground, which she rushed to grab, and insulted her intelligence as a witch of pathetic magical abilities, which he had done more than once previously, and left the cave, mounted his steed, and made haste back to his abode.

'The 'Prophetess of Dark Portents', as she was known as, was really a charlatan, he was quite sure. Quite sure. Yet Olo Malan had a whole host of dysfunctional characters, each serving the sarcastic wit of Lord Dreldragon, and amidst all the chaos of a world were power, riches and wealth were the ultimate glory, it was not easy to make a buck, as it was oft said in the wizarding guilds of the Cold West, the most frequent place of Zen's drunken escpades and ramblings to earn his pay.

Sitting on his throne in the heart of Argan, he considered the Odex against the wall, which Togura had traded him for the life of his fair maiden Day Suet, and with the index once again within his reach, perhaps he could access the deeper regions of the Odex, were it was rumoured - or to be precise, stated boldly in the 'Nexus Technical Manual' which he had copies of, difficult to read, for they were in German, to which he was not that familiar, and his offworld ordering of a German Dictionary, yet to be finally approved of by the Universal Trading Post near one of the World Rings, were the spaceways were accessed, and the larger world, beyond the fantasia of the Dralikon, functioned - lay untold weapons of mass destructive capability, certainly more than enough to aid him on his eternal conquest of the world of Olo Malan. Or at least to find one of the mythical 'Microwaves' with which he could cook his steak dinners.. Yet Nexus policy, which was these days synonomous with the hierarchy of the Dralikon itself, refused to sully Drake's creation with anything too much of the real world, lest it suited the purposes of divine fantasy which Dreldragon maintained 'Must' be complied with, Thus obtaining a German dictionary, the laborious translation of which into his own tongue would certainly set him back a pretty penny, or even an ugly one as they did say. was not going to be an easy affair.

Dreldragon had announced himself, not that long ago, as the ruler of the Nexus - the ruler of the Dralikon - and Zen had even received words of the legendary 'Lord Cook' to whom the ancient scribal creation of his homeworld was attributed, the all powerful god of this universe taking inspiration and handing Lord Drake - Lord Dreldragon - the fulfilment of his fantasies.

He longed for the real world, in many ways, did Zen Durander - but he knew he would never gain access beyond the trading posts hidden communications to the stars, for he was a child eternal of Olo Malan and, it seemed, the place he would forever reside. For such was the will of the All powerful one. Such was the will of God.

Michael gazed at the scroll. Twas an ancient scroll of prophesy, quite apparently, so Dreldragon maintained. Or, more likely, something he had some bloke do up and look like an ancient scroll of prophesy. Michael, in truth, favoured the latter, as this jaunt he was currently on, sponsored by the fantasies of Arthur Drake, lent little to the world of actual Torahic prophetical credibility, or to much in the way of credibiliy in general, really. It was just a fantasy holiday, and in the Fantasia he found himself caught up in, he constantly reminded himself, while very real and very true to countless citizens of the Dralikon, or the Nexus as it was more commonly wont to be called by Drake the further into this fantasy universe he found himself propelled, he constantly taught his heart that attachment would not be wise for at the end of all glories fables, the real world returned, and even Peter Pan became a normal boy in the end. Didn't he? Or so Spielberg would have you believe.

Yet, looking at the scroll, translating it carefully from the tranlsation key at his disposal, provided by Dreldragon, it spoke of a warrior of legend, who would come to the Nexus, and defeat a dark lord and his wizarding compatriot in a most chilling and ultimate endgame encounter.

An endgame encounter, thought Michael to himself. Very puzzling.

'It's a bucket of bolts,' said Estella.

'I'ts the greatest spaceship of all time. Pisses on the Millennium Falcon.'

'It's still a bucket of bolts,' said Estella, upon coming inside the illustrious 'Wolfklaw. 'I bet it won't even go. How long since you have flown it?'

He ignored her, but when she ran her finger accross the control deck, bringing up a solid inch of dust, she said, 'It's prehistoric!'

He just smiled sarcastically.

'This bucket of bolts will get us to the Dralikon, babe.'

'And what exactly is the Dralikon?'

'The empire of Arthur Drake. I know a little about it. Have some contacts in the outer worlds of his conglomeracy. He has gradually been claiming system after system in the galaxy he is based in and one day he will rule it. That's certain.'

'So,' she said, surveying the control deck one last time, taking a seat on the captains chair, and turning to him, 'What exactly is it?'

'The cult of cults,' he said, grinning at her.

'The cult of cults?' she queried, eyebrow tilted.

'The cult of cults,' he affirmed. 'Now get out of my chair, babe. I have work to do.'

So, taking the side seat, she watched as the offspring of the Rimwalker, Kolm Grimsby, fired up the 'Wolfklaw', set his target on the galaxy of the Dralikon, and pulled out an ancient beer from a fridge under the control panel, ensure her it was the 'Long Life' variety and, when he didn't throw up immediately, she settled, as the mad grin on the face of the new Rimwalker lit up the ship as they started off to the Dralikon, and a crazy new destiny.

Melanie looked at the strange concoction of a cocktail, sipped on it once more, and almost turned her head. It wasn't that it tasted fowl, really. It was just that it tasted so - recycled.

'Thats the way of everything on the main spaceports,' said Daniel. 'They recycle a heck of a lot of stuff. Have to this far in space.'

'Right,' she nodded, taking another sip on the brandy and tonic. It wasn't actually that bad, she admitted to herself after a few moments. It was just a little - weird.

They were in a bar on 'Spacehaven 74XXT', as it was identified as, and Daniel had a grin on him that morning, as the copy of 'Morning Stars' in front of them was testimony to. Even here, on the edge of never, there was a solitary 'Noahide Books' bookstore on the lower level of the marketplace in the central column of the spaceport, and Daniel had spent half an hour browsing, then introducing himself and sorting out, funnily enough, some of their employment concerns and giving the manager, who had been there forever, literally, some words of advice on long term promotional opportunities within the Noahide Books franchise. Daniel was in a good mood because of it it.

They were schmoozing away, happy little customers of the bar, when a familiar looking face walked into the bar, ordered something or other with a girl following him, and sat down nearby. He looked so familiar, but not quite. Perhaps a son or a cousin of the person. And then he knew. Jan Kolby. It was Jan Kolby - the Rimwalker - or someone just like him.

'Jan? Jan Kolby? Is that you?' asked Daniel.

The man turned to him and nodded. 'Yep. I guess so. In reality. His great-grand-son, actually. Kolm Grimsby. But everyone says we're the spitting image of each other.'

'Kolm Grimsby. Wow!' said Daniel. 'Your not flying the Wolfklaw, though, are you?'

Kolm grinned. 'This little lady is Estella.'

You look familiar,' said Melanie.

'I get that,' said Estella. 'I also have a famous great-grand-parent. But your Daniel, aren't you? The Seraphim? And Melanie C? The Spice Girl?'

'Guilty as charged,' said Daniel.

'Its a small universe, after all,' said Melanie.

And the group chatted away, found out they were both headed for the Dralikon, and agreed to travel in tandem for the next few days until they reached their destination.

Saruviel sat in his office, playing with a little basketball, which he occasionally threw into the ring against the wall next to his desk. He was bored. Three weeks in the job and he was already bored. He looked at the manilla folder lying on his desk with 'The Dralikon Project' written on the tab, swore at himself one last time for his stupid pride in even thinking about acting on Phanuel's words but, despite millions years, now, of humbling correction from Almighty God, swore once more at his dumbass male bravado, for his spirit had a portent of what was coming, and buzzed in Cindradel, asked her to organize, of all things, space travel to the Dralikon, and swore one final time as he prepared to set off for the adventure of his lifetime.

Michael sat on the collapsible seat, next to the dais, were Artie Drake was giving a speech. Or, to be precise, the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, the Supreme Sovereign of Glory of the Nexus, Regent of Olo Malan, was giving a speech. The crowd were a group of nobles of Argan in Chenameg, were the recently restored city, the swarms having been driven back by the powers of Togura Poulaan and a Warlock of questionable reputation, as well as a Wyvvern of dubious characteristics, of all creatures, through the power of ancient Nexus technologies. The Lord Dreldragon had travelled back to Argan, taken residency in Chenameg and built a palace to his glory, and was now welcoming a visitor from the 'Nexus' who was a chosen child of destiny. The speech was fascinating - all sorts of glories Drakedon promised from this otherworldly visitor - who was a saviour redeemer, known by the watermelon itsel, whatever that meant - to take them from a dark world to a restored, Nexus reunited, Empire.

'For he is a saviour of great diplomacy, and the Nexus will surely favour us upon his glorious triumph in the trial of champions.'

Michael cocked his head. 'Trial of Champions?' What the hell was Dreldragon going on about.

The crowd gathered cheered and one fair maiden ran down in front of them, threw a boquet of flowers at Michael, and said 'Long live the Champion of the Nexus. Sure to be our saviour.'

Later, Michael got the official story. He was the Nexus chosen warrior for entrance into Chenamegs restored 'Trial of Champions'. The old Trial of Champions, Drake informed him, was his borrowing from a famous fantasy series of solo roleplaying game books, Fighting Fantasy, with a definite twist added by Drake, for the purposes of, putting it bluntly, entertaining the masses. If the Nexus champion emerged triumphant, the Nexus would look with favour upon Olo Malan and grant them restoration, like the old days, back into the life of the Nexus. The fact that this particular Olo Malan, unlike the one in the novels which Michael had been reading the past few days, was never really riddled with the fantastic history Argan was known for was, to put it bluntly, a minor issue in the words of Drake.

'What they don't know won't hurt them, huh?' commented Michael sarcastically.

Drakedon had only smiled.

And then he had gone on to speak about how funny life in the Dralikon had become in many ways, with so many familiar names from the legendary tales of early fantasy having real life equivalents in these fantasy worlds, not even knowing themselves of the ancient tales from which they had been birthed by the foundational prayers of Arthur Drake to God Most High when the Dralikon was originally formed.

'Back in the day you were often into fantasy AND science fiction, if you were that kind of person. They often went hand in hand for some of the classic writers. I conceieved of the Dralikon with a cold metallic exterior - a cyborg, if you will - were science fiction worlds were dominant, and Paradises of Dune and other worlds from the classic authors could live out their glorious existences. But fantasy was my heart, and still is, and in the inner worlds of this galaxy Heavenly Father has formed for me my deepest desires in this heavenly universe, were Frodo lives and has his adventures, and Gollum constantly strives to regain his precious. Of course, my prayers were for the true histories of those chronicles by those authors to have been relived, were possible, in this heavenly world, and so much true history according to those stories has indeed transpired.'

'The hobbit came to be?' inquired Michael.

'Indeed it did,' said Arthur Drake. 'Very closely so. Eru Illuvatar had all sorts of glory in those days, for the Theophany visited me more than once as we watched on the events through portal view.'

'Fascinating,' said Michael, entertained by the ideas.

'Even the Enterprise and Captain Kirk are out there, having there adventures, battling Klingons, all within Dralikon territory. They can't escape their section of the galaxy, though. Special electro magnetic shields prevent them leaving the 'Roddenberry' systems. But they have enough space to chew on, and I access that world when I need to. So many of my offspring are in that world, living their lives, making me happy for their sake.'

'Your a kid at heart,' said Michael to Dreldragon.

'I'm a kid at heart,' confirmed Drake.

Michael chatted with Drake for a number of hours that afternoon, then Drake duly informed him that word was all over Argan and that champions were gradually arriving. And then he said, suddenly, he had to leave him be for a few days. Something urgent had come up.

Michael spent his time in his chambers in Dreldragons palace of Chenameg, entertained by young maidens, one of them dressed in red late one night, coming in to him, taking off her top and offering herself to the champion. He gazed at her beauty, her nubile figure, her luscious breasts and, for the first time in a very long, long while, temptation spoke to his heart. Could he? Should he? Would he?

When she was gone a moment later, he took out the photo of his wife Elenniel he kept always in his wallet, prayed that God would forgive him for having been tempted, yet he had remained faithful anyway, and knew in his heart, he always would remain true to Elenniel. Hopefully.

He drank a lot of nectar in those days, and sometimes alcohol made from various plants, for the other types of manufactured drinks were not known on this strange world of Olo Malan, beset in an eternal dark age world of Terra, were dragons roamed the earth, and fair maidens cried for their knight saviours. He travelled the city at times, looking at this and that of the restoration projects, for only this last century had Chenameg been reclaimed from the power of the swarms, deadly creatures who lived in the deep south of the continent, and in the old city were he was living much of the older industry was still be resettled. There were traditional markets, noble houses, economic centres, and all the traditional fair of a dark age city emerging into a new world, but this was, apparently, the way Drakedon liked it. The way the fantasy afficianado preferred his fantasy world to be run. With Kings and Queens, and galleys and dungeons. With magic and monster, and gold chests and quests unlimited. The stuff of fantasy to the Archangel of God, but even he delighted in this world, this fantasia, and was almost wishing he would not have to leave at the end of his quest. Almost.

The maiden dressed in scarlett returned once more, another night, and this time she had a blonde lady, completely naked with her. She said that if one virgin was not enough for her champion, then he could take her and her sister. But Michael, valiantly, refused them, and when they were gone, despite his loyalty to his wife, the reaction from the naked beauty had just been too much for him, and he lay on his bed, unrobed his gown, and relieved himself in the manner that all too many men had wont to do from time to time in their solitary lives.

The days turned to weeks, and then months, and Drakedon had not returned. The Trial of Champions seemed to be currently on hold, but he was kept informed by various palace officials that contestants from all over Argan and even as afar as Tameran and Yestron, had been arriving, Michael having completed his knowledge from the dekalogy by Mr Cook that he had now read, and that Lord Dreldragon was to return soon.

And then, one bright afternoon, a rainbow in the skies, Michael thinking about that ancient rainbow which Noah saw the day of his own sacrifice, Drakedon returned and, with him, a number of 'quite familiar faces. Quite familiar, yet definitely sarcastic looking, faces.

Daniel stood there, a mad grin on his face, yet Michael, once more, felt the need to rebuke his younger brother.

'Do you know just how problematic the situation is about to become?'

Daniel didn't answer.

'For starters, why on earth you have come to the Dralikon for adventure is beyond me, but knowing you well enough now Daniel I shouldn't be surprised. You have always been a little crazy.'

'Hey, you're here,' he responded.

'I was invited,' shot back Michael.

'I mean, come on Mikey, what the frucks the problem?'

'The problem,' began the Archangel of God's greater glory,' is that our beloved host has gotten the idea into his head that, as you and your compatriots, and how on earth you found Saruviel is beyond me, but now that you are here, the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay has somehow gotten it into his head that you are Destiny's offerings for his current glorious escapade.'

'Which is?' asked Daniel cautiously.

'The Trial of Champions.'

'Your a champ, Daniel,' said Melanie. 'You might even win it.'

'Its too the death,' responded Michael.

'Oh, bugger,' said Melanie, and came over to Daniel, caressed his head and said, 'It was lovely knowing you, Danny boy.'

He grinned a little despite the situation.

'I mean, how bad can this trial of champions be?' asked Daniel to Michael.

'There are 7 death defying events were we must be put to the ultimate test. And if we survive the first 6, the final and 7th contest is, for the survivors, to the death.'

'Sounds wonderful,' said Daniel, swallowing.

'It will be,' grumped Michael.

Nevertheless Michael did not call in divine favour, thinking, however Daniel would manage to wrangle himself out of this one, he should bloody let him taste his medicine. I mean, the bloke had gotten this far without tasting death in the heavenlies. Lets see if he could make it the whole way, as it where.'

And then Arthur Drake was gone again, and Michael was accross the corridor from Daniel and Melanie, with Saruviel down the corridor a little and Kolm Grimsby and Estella, to compatriots they had run into on their travels, a level down.

Lord Dreldragon had given them 6 more months of prepration time and, as the officials came in,and instructed them, they began to get a sense for what the Trial of Champions was all about.

It was a savage encounter with passion and warfare, and only the strong would survive. Michael almost looked forward to the challenge.

He and Daniel played chess a lot in those few months. Daniel took black most of the time, as Lord Dreldragon favoured the game and had introduced it to Olo Malan, and Daniel reveled in the variant designs for the Black pieces, so much more dramatic, that Olo Malanese culture offered him. Michael won the majority of the time, but only just. It was 17 games to 15, in favour of Michael, before the Trial of Champions finally began.

The maiden visited Michael, again, each and every night after a while. She would come in late, when everyone had gone to bed, and take off her top, and give him a longing, lust-filled look of adoration. But he would shake his head, and she would depart, sorrowful, only to return the following night. It was an ongoing temptation for the Archangel of God, but his fidelity to his wife Elenniel bore him through.

Daniel and Melanie, from the looks of it, had become very close indeed. He groped her ass a lot, and she hit his hand away constantly, calling him a creep every time, but Michael could tell she liked the attention from the looks she occasionally shot at him when he wasn't looking. Nabbing a spice girl, thought Michael to himself, was just like Daniel. Just like his ego to go for the pick of the crop. Of course, Melanie was a cherubim sister of his anyway, and he remembered their youths in the realm of eternity, when Melanie had goggled at her big brother, awestruck in his presence, always complimenting him and asking about him. Apparently there had been a bit of a crush, Daniel had once informed him in their private chess matches, but that had long since passed. He did remember, though, the attention from that one all those years ago. The looks of admiration.

Kolm Grimsby was one hell of a guy. Offspring of the Rimwalker, a space hero of various reputes, whose name in the Realm of Eternity was synonomous with action and adventure. And the girl with him - Estella - she looked so much like the pop singer Britney Spears, it wasn't funny.

All things considered, they were memorable times, and while the anxioiusness of waiting for the Trial of Champions to begin get them on edge, perhaps that was a good thing. To be alive - to be really alive - even frightened of its possibilities, was something Michael had not experienced in he knew not how long. Almost since Judgement Day, when the ultimate confrontation of confrontations came to pass.

Would the Trial of Champions exceed that glory? Time would only tell.

Kolm examined his laser pistol. Weird, of all the things in the world to be concerned about, you would figure a laser gun by your side, in this day and age, would be the least of your worries. But, no. In the trial of champions coming up, with which about the most details they had was that it would be exhausting mentally, spiritually and physically, Kolm had a hunch that the simplest thing like a laser gun just might get him through some tricky situations. That was, if it didn't end up being banned from the contest, for he still had no idea yet on the official rules for the tournament.

Apparently, each of the 7 segments would be a free for all, but the final 7th one would be against all remaining contestants. The thought off having to knock of Daniel, should he make it through, was daunting, but Michael and Saruviel looked a handful as well.

Of course, death in the heavenlies, was not permanent death. Not really. Only if evil had been involved, and he was not quite sure just how those realities were affected by a competition like this. Probably, if, say, Daniel got killed, at the end of each millennial restoration, as they were called, those who had died of accidents and other illnesses, which was still very rare compared to the total population, were restored from death to live once more, lessons hopefully learned. But this particular lesson was somewhat different - potentially to the death - deliberately. Maybe God would not be so tolerant on such realities.

Yet, images of 'Hunger Games' movies flashed through his head, and it was rumoured the Theophany was a big fan of those ones, so who knew for sure.

One thing, though, was on his mind. Arthur Drake's request to him in the time he had gotten to know him. He and Daniel had arrived out an outer Dralikon planet, landed, and requested some of Daniel's friends. No sooner had they arrived then they had been locked up at another planet, apparently a holding planet of sorts, and then the Archangel Saruviel had been thrust in with them not much later. And then Drake himself had arrived, spoken long and hard about the need for his privacy, then offered them an early way out of their jail cell - competition in the Trial of Champions. But, to gain their freedom, one other requirement had to be complied with. If they survived the Trial they were forbidden from speaking the true realities about the Dralikon, as Dreldgragon favoured his privacy more than any other truth.

Kolm signed the agreement, as did the other 4 prisoners, the girls included, and while he looked with great interest to see what wonders of the Dralikon would now be revealed to him, he kept on reminding himself he would have to keep mum about whatever strange wonders he encountered. Or fail to be a man of honour, which is how he had always been raised.

A spider flicked past him, lowering down on his web, and instinctively, knowing his gun was only set on stun, he took aim and fired at the little insect. It fell to the floor, singed somewhat, but on the setting it was on it wouldn't even kill the spider. He watched it on the ground for a few moments, almost tempted to tread on it, but he was against killing things, even bugs, just for the sake of it. They were all God's creatures and unless there was a definite reason for the action, even for a man like Kolm Grimsby, then it just wouldn't be right. He watched as the spider gradually came to its senses again, awkwardly crawled away, under the shelter of a couch, perhaps wondering to itself just what strange force it had encountered. Hopefully it wouldn't bother him again.

Well, the laser pistol seemingly working well enough, he finished up with his exercises that he had also been doing in preparation for the trials, went back to the main section of his chambers, and laid down on the grand bed, next to the resting Estella, who was dressed in luscious green with flowery designs, accentuating her young and lithe figure and her true feminine beauty.

He was suddenly randy.

'How about it, babe,' he said, putting his hand on her hip.

She slapped it away, but when it returned she did not press him to move it and, slowly, she turned to him, smiled at him, and they passionately made love in the cool afternoon air of a Chenameg summer day, the rains having just passed for the day, common at the moment, with nothing to bother them but a potentially miffed Chenamegian spider with a grudge in its heart.

Saruviel sat at the desk, with the papyrus, taking notes. Of course, by honour of his agreement with the Lord Dreldragon Drakedon Douay, aka Arthur 'Artie' Drake, ruler supreme over the entity known to all and sundry as 'The Dralikon', he was forbidden from ever speaking of the things he had seen here, ever. Even upon any potential resurrection upon the advent of his death, should he recall the details of what he had seen he would, by his own word of honour, never speak to them of anyone. Drakedon wanted his mystery to remain just that - his mystery.

'I can't have every Tom, Dick and Harry traipsing around here to visit Gandalf on a most urgent quest or cast spells with Harry Potter. We are not an amusement park.'

Saruviel saw the point.

But Drake had not forbidden him from taking notes for his own personal memoirs of the place and so, with not much better to do right at that moment, he had ordered some papyrus, the standard writing stuff used in Chenameg, from one of the officials who saw to his need, gotten ink and a quill as well and, later on in the afternoons of this balmy summer weather, he had taken to recording the fascinating things he had seen for his own personal posterities sake, if none others.

Thinking about it for a while, it really was a memorable way to begin his term as overseer of Zaphon. Stranded on a crazy world half way accross the universe, nobody to talk to much, except a couple of his brothers who were caught in the same situation, somewhat. Although the details of how exactly Michael had come to be here were still not known by himself, it was still kind of funky having come into the room and see his bigger brother glaring at him in judgement. Not the kind of thing you expect, normally. Traveling the universe to sus out a cult of cults and have your bigger brother one step ahead of you.

But, naturally, Michael had not clearly stated his reasons for being here, and had in fact yet to do so, but one thing was clear now, from the things that he had let on about. He was expected by all and sundry to be the glorious entrance into the Trial of Champions, representing the Nexus, as it was called and that, from what they had been talking about, upon Michael's most assured of victory, the world of Chenameg and Argan and Olo Malan in general would be restored to the community of the Nexus, whatever that was, and restoration to full citizens of that entity would bring wealth, prosperity and true salvation to all and sundry. At least that was the commonly held belief.

A child of destiny, so, apparently, Michael was at this time. A child of destiny.

Saruviel, once, in the beginning, long ago, had felt that he, too, had been a child of destiny for a while. A specially chosen vessel of God, for not only Saruviel's own glory, but for the glory of the lesson being taught in and through that son. In some ways much of that destiny had come to pass, but he was still walking down, it felt, a fate of eternity almost chosen step by step for him.

But there were others, of course. Lots of them.

Lots of Children of Destiny, whose lives, perhaps, were being recorded by some strange recorder, some divine being, who typed away at a typewriter or some other strange instrument, valiantly boasting to all and sundry of Saruviel's brave feats, or Michael's daring leadership. Or probably, more likely, boasting on about Daniel and his magnificent sarcasm to all who would listen. Yes, probably Daniel, thought Saruviel to himself, smiling at the thought of it.

Here they were, the Children of Destiny. The Children of Fate, if you will. Stuck on a strange world, awaiting a Trial were their lives, once more, would be put to the test. Were they would face triumph or tragedy and, in the end, so it really seemed, only destiny herself knew the answers to their struggle. Only destiny herself.

He reinked his quill, wrote down some of these strange thoughts and, sleeping that night, he had another dream. A dream of a cosmically minded Daniel, writing about the life of Saruviel and his adventures on Olo Malan, grinning to himself all the while. And he awoke, and he shuddered, and, as they say, that was that. That was that.

And suddenly, the Trial. of Champions was upon them.

'You will choose a partner,' said Drake to the gathered competitors. 'So team up.'

Daniel, naturally, chose Melanie, and Kolm Grimsby paired with Estella. Leaving Saruviel looking at Michael. Yet, a figure came forward.

'I am Zen Durander. I have heard much spoken of you, Saruviel. Chenameg fears you. I will partner with you.'

Saruviel nodded, leaving a solitary Michael after all the other competitors had been teame up.

And then the female, the one from his nights, came forward, and said she was Bree, and that she would fight with Michael. And Michael assented.

The first trial was the Pathway to Oblivion. The Pathway to Oblivion was a pathway over a lake nearby Lake Chenameg. The lake had been filled with deadly man eating fish, sharks and terrors of various kind. Drakedon pointed to the obelisks sticking up from the lake, each with a letter carved in rock into the face of the pinnacle of the obelisk.

'Everyone. Watch, and try to remember, as best as you can, what you see,' said Drake.

And then in front of them servants unrolled a large banner which had 10 symbols on them.

'Examine them closely, for you have but one minute to remember them,' said Drake.

Michael looked carefully, spending a few seconds on each symbol, taking mental notes of the designs in his head, and rechecking them all once over before the scroll was wound up.

'Did you get them all?' Daniel asked Melanie.

'Trust you to stuff up,' said Melanie.

'Now, on each of the obelisks is a symbol. If the symbol matches the ones you have just seen, it is safe. If not, you will plunged to your doom. Simple? Its not as easy as you look,' grinned Dreldragon.

All around the edges of the lake the crowds had built up and Michael knew it could, really, be sudden death. His wings would work, and he would fly if he needed to, but best to not let on.

'Now, on the other side there is a red flag. You all need to claim red flag to continue at every stage of the Trial. Fail to get the red flag and your contest is finished.'

Bree stood next to Michael, and dressed in leather, her breasts poking out a little from the top, Michael didn't want to let on how attracted he now was to this female. She had touched him in the last few months, with her flatteries, with her looks. And while he would do his best to remain faithful, he was sorely tempted.

'Begin,' said Dreldragon, and the competitors took off.

Half way accross Bree and Michael were in the lead, but it didn't seem to matter on a stage by stage contest anyway. He had carefully memorised each of the symbols, and knew them well from observation now. But he was now stuck. There was one symbol, right in front of them, which looked like the tenth, but he couldn't be certain, because just to the right was another one which looked quite similar, with an extra stroke.

'Was it there, Bree? Did it have the extra stroke?'

Bree just shook her head. 'I don't know Michael. I didn't get to the tenth one.'

A guess, he thought to himself. He would have to risk a guess.

Over to the right yet another competitor had taken a dive and the crowd had gone berserk seeing the deadly sea creatures attack them. Michael shuddered. It really was to the death.

'Guess,' said Bree. 'We might get lucky.'

He stood there, about to take a leap ahead, when a little voice in his head said 'Go right'. And listening to that voice he stepped to the right - safely.

When they made the other side with no further inciden, Daniel and Melanie greeted them, holding a red flag, and Daniel sarcastically said 'Unbelievable. Even dullard Michael made it across.'

'Where's Saruviel?' asked Michael.

'Here,' said Saruviel, coming forward with a red flag.

'The flags are just there,' said Melanie pointing.

Bree walked over, grabbed their victory flag, and the crowds cheered even more so.

The second trial was the caverns of doom. The caverns, at the base of Mt Valiant, were filled with all sorts of snakes, creepy crawlies, vampire bats and other hideous creatured hidden within. Red flags had been hidden at various points within the caverns and they had 1 torch which would last an hour to find their flag.

Saruviel and Zen descended into the caverns before anyone else, and Michael entered last. He would give them all a fair go.

'This is creepy,' said Bree, brushing through a spider's web.

'Tell me about it,' said Michael.

'Uh, well, its creepy,' she said again, a quizzical look on her face. Michael just grinned at the cultural divide between them.

They had been down for 10 minutes, carefully searching from one cavern to the next, looking for red flags, and had seen two other teams rush back out having claimed their victory prizes. And then, suddenly, a host of bats flew over head and swarmed around the two of them. Michael plunged the torch at them and they took the hint and flew off.

'I hate bats,' said Bree.

'Lets find that flag,' said Michael.

10 minutes later they had gone even deeper into the caverns and their torch was reaching the halfway point.

'If we don't find it soon, we'll be stuck here,' said a disconcerted Bree.

'Trust me,' said Michael, but he was worried inside.

And then they came to a cavern, with a pool of water in it, but a red flag on the other side.

'I'll wade in,' said Michael. 'Here, hold the torch.'

Michael handed the torch to Bree and carefully, taking out the dagger he had been given at the start just in case, he waded in.

And then a tentacle grabbed him, pulled him under, leaving a screaming Bree shuddering.

'Were is he, were is he?' she stammered again and again.

Underneath the water, breath running out, Michael was finally ready to hack at the beast. It had a tight grip but he found its body, hacked in with a dagger, and the tentacle went limp, and he rushed to the surface, gasping for air.

'I'm ok,' he yelled to Bree, who had started crying.

He got to the shore, grabbed the red flag, and decided to cheat. He unfurled his wings, flew accross back to Bree, and she looked at him strangely.

'What are you?' she asked.

'Just a regular guy,' smiled Michael.

Climbing Mt Valiant didn't look that imposing to Daniel. He'd done tougher things. But when Drake talked of were-cats and other fowl creatures lurking on the mountain he wasn't so cocky.

'There are 3 special transporters, and 1 phoney one, hidden on the mountain somewhere, which will instantly take you to the top of the mountain if you choose to use it.'

'And the phoney one?' asked Daniel.

'To space and beyond,' smiled Drake.

'Great,' said the Seraphim.

Daniel and Melanie got started, using the euqipment they were supplied with, and about 3 hours into the climb, they came to a crevice, which had a small space vehicle with a big red button on it.

'Will we?' he asked.

'It could be the phoney one,' Melanie replied.

'It will save us a lot of bother,' he said. 'And how bad could space be?'

'Mmm,' she said, but followed Daniel inside the small space craft anyway.

Daniel pushed the red button when they were strapped in and the doors closed, sealed themselves, and it took off. They were lucky. They got the right one. It landed a short time later on top of Mt Valiant and while Daniel said 'Ha', Melanie knew they had been lucky.

They claimed their red flag, with a crowd even up here congratulating them, and waited.

Half a day later Michael and Bree emerged, and then they saw a ship skying upwards.

'It's Kolm,' said Michael. 'And Estella. They were deciding wether they would risk it or not. We saw you guys reach the top.'

Daniel smiled. Another competitor bites the dust.

Michael and Bree had some quiet time. The contest was over for the day, and they were in tents on the mountain side. Thinking to himself about the competition he considered his competitors. Three events down and, somehow, his brother Daniel had still survived. Of course, Saruviel was still in the contest, but with Kolm Grimsby and Estella, apparently, now transported to some God forbidden planet at the end of the third trial, the competition was really starting to thin down somewhat. It could be tough, but Bree seemed like a born survivor, and the prophecy still remained true. He was headeded for a confrontation with Saruviel, and one which they would likely, never, ever, forget.'

He sipped on his hot coffee, smiled as Bree took off her leather top and stared at him, suggesting she was his if he wanted her, but he just shook his head as she shrugged, nestled into her blankets, and settled in for the long, cold night.

The morrow would see the victor, and Michael was intense with anticipation.

'These are the ropes. As you can see, they are strong,' said Drake, hanging on a rope extending from the summit of Mt Valiant, a good mile further outwards to Mt Impossible.

'Three quarters of the way accross is the red flag. You may only go one way to get the flag. There are 17 ropes. We only have 5 teams left. Good luck.'

Bree looked at Michael. 'I am strong, but perhaps you would have a better chance.'

'I'll see you on the other side,' said Michael.

He looked at the ropes. They did look strong enough, but a fall further out could be disastrous for his identity.

As he watched Daniel started off and soon Saruviel on one of the other ropes, leaving Michael last again. He got to it.

Half way accross it was a long way down and, despite himself being an ancient angel, long ago having conquered his fear of heights, he still felt a little dizzy. He crawled along the rope slowly, bit by bit, when a large eagle landed on the rope above him, and started pecking at him.

'Go away bird. Go away,' but the eagle persisted in having a go at him.

20 yards away Daniel laughed, when the eagle, deciding it had had enough of Michael, flew over and started pecking at Daniel. Poetic justice, thought Michael sarcastically to himself.

He steadied, continued on, and as the morning light turned to afternoon, he claimed the flag, put it in his tunic, and continued onwards.

'Well done, Mikey. But the competition is drawing to a close. One of us could be in the shit soon,' said Daniel.

Michael smiled. Daniel, ever the sarcastic champion. Ever.

'Mt Impossible is an extinct volcano, and at the bottom is a labyrinth. Beware the wrath of the minotaurs, for you must overcome them to claim your flag.'

'Sounds wonderful,' said Michael.

Zen Durander looked at Saruviel. 'Shall I cast the spell, then, Master Saruviel.'

Saruviel wanted to think better of it, but decided he may as well go with the flow. The spell would be cast.

Charting their way through the upper levels, the torch suddenly flickered and went out. Zen's spell had been cast.

'What do we do?' sobbed Bree.

'Hold my hand,' said Michael. 'I will lead the way.' But he was lost. Then he remembered an old truth of labyrinths. Hold one side, and if you started that way, you inevitable came to the exit. He had subconsciously been trying to do that, so putting his hand on the wall to the left of them, they slowly creeped along.

It was 10 minutes later, they came to a door. Michael, daring, opened it, and they were rewarded with a torch against a far wall, with a small wall in front of them. They bypassed the wall and then Bree touched his arm nervously.

'Look,' she said.

The wall had been hiding a sleeping minotaur, with a red flag at the end of the minotaurs bed.

'Shhh,' said Michael. 'Be vewy vewy quiet.'

He relit the torch, and, slowly, creeped towards the red flag. But the minotaur suddenly awoke, and when they had backed up it was halted by a chain around its neck, roaring at them.

'How do we get the flag?' yelled Bree.

Michael thought quickly. The minotaur, in the end, while quite well built, had no jagged looking teeth.

'I'll wrestle it. You grab the flag.'

'You sure,' she said.

'You only live once,' he smiled back at her.

'Very funny,' she said.

So Michael launched himself at the Minotaur, who doubled back on the bed in a wrestle with him, while Bree snatched the flag.

'Ok,' she said. 'I've got it.'

'Urrggh,' said Michael, with the minotaurs thick arm around his neck.

'Cuudd you heelpp,' he managed to screech.

She thought quickly, and, looking at the torch in her hand, flared it at the minotaurs face, who squealed, relaxed his grip on Michael for a moment, who bolted out of reach of the raging beast.

'Let's get out of here,' he muttered. 'And if I never seen another labyrinth again it will be too soon.'

'I concur,' she said smiling.

'Congratulations. Survivors!' smirked Drake. 4 Teams left. The barbarian thug who had been mocking Michael occasionally. Daniel and Melanie. Saruviel and Zen. Himself and Bree. 4 Teams. 1 winner.

They were beyond the labyrinth, on the outskirts of Mt Impossible, and a coliseum was in the distance, with houses all around it, another city nearby Chenameg, with a vast grass plain between them.

'The sixth trial is simple. Cross the plain. A red flag is on the other side for all who are successful.'

Michael knew it was a trap instantly, with the smile on Dreldragons face.

Michael strode forward carefully, watching his steps. It had to be a trap.

Over to his left Melanie and Daniel seemed to be having an arguement, which was good news. Hopefully they would make a fatal mistake.

Saruviel was over to his right, Zen following him. That one wouldn't make a mistake. The 7th one would never make a mistake.

They crossed, slowly, carefull, and then the Barbarian yelled as he and his lithe female partner disappeared under the earth.

'They're are traps,' yelled Saruviel. 'Pits.'

'Right,' said Michael, and took out his dagger, poking as he went.

'We'll be alright, Bree. It could be slow, but we'll make it.'

'I trust you, Michael.'

Suddenly a yelp and, ironically, Daniel and Melanie had disappeared.

'Fuck!' swore Michael. 'I hope they are ok. God watch over them.'

Slowly, as the afternoon passed, he watched as Saruviel and Zen were doing similar to them and, finally, reaching the edge of the plain, they came upon the mosaic platform and claimed their red flags. The barbarian and his partner had been killed by snakes, but Daniel and Melanie had fought them off with their daggers, and were very lucky. Theyr'e had only been a few of them. They'd needed help out of the pit, but were now disqualified.

'I guess I ended up in the shit after all,' said Daniel to Michael, holding a pitcher of the ale they had grown accustomed to.

'Pride comes..'

'Don't remind me,' said Daniel the Seraphim.

The final victors, Michael and Saruviel's teams, were celebrated at the colliseum for a number of days as the crowds, who had been following the event, gradually filled up the colliseum in anticipation for the final contest.

'Choose your final champion,' said Drakedon in front of the crowd. The cheers were intense.

Michael stepped forward, and so did Saruviel.

'The endgame encounter has Team Saruviel & Zen Durander vs Michael and his Maiden in a game of 'Dragon Chess' were Death is the end result for the loser.'

'Chess,' said Saruviel, amused.

'Its hardly a death sport,' commented Michael.

'We kill the loser,' said Drakedon smartly.

'Oh,' said Alexander.

'I see,' said Michael.

Daniel, who had been consulting Drake's official rule book, excused himself. I'll be back in a jiffee.'

He disappeared, as Michael stared at Saruviel, and the game began.

Michael was cold, for once in his life, and with the killing blow he looked at his brother with sorrow. 'You'll be back, Alex. At the end of the Millennium. Try to look on the bright side of life.'

Alexander Darvanius II shuddered. He didn't like death.

Suddenly Daniel appeared, with the child of heaven 'Aphrayel - Death' and 'Samael - Devil'

'What are you doing here?' Michael asked Death.

'Death is for the loser!' she exclaimed, a funny look on her face, looking coyly at Daniel.

Michael turned to Samael the child of heaven, the Devil. 'And you, Sam?'

'Daniel invited me along for the ride. Said it would be fun.'

'What exactly does it mean by Death is for the loser?' asked Saruviel, noticing the funny look on Daniel's face.'

Aphrayel smiled. 'I get to have my wicked way with the guy who didn't win,' she said, and smiled that oh so deathly familiar smile.

'That could be interesting,' said Saruviel, a grin on his face.

'That's the idea,' said death, slithering over to him, and caressing his shoulder.

Drakedon, axe in hand, gazed at Death who stared deep into his soul, reminding him just who she was.

'The Reaper herself has come to claim her prize,' he yelled to the crowd, and the cheering was intense.

'Time to die,' said Aphrayel, leading Alexander away to a room beneath the Colisseum.

Later on, when Alexander reappeared to Michael and the rest, with Kolm Grimsby and Estella restored to them, having been transported back from an apparently jungle like planet with no intelligent life on it, Michael asked Saruviel, as they were all travelling back on Daniel's ship, 'Did Death claim her victory?'

Saruviel looked incredibly guilty, put both his hands down defensively to his nether region, and smiled a wicked smile.

'Oh, brother,' said Michael.

And Saruviel grinned and grinned and grinned.

The End

'Morning Stars: Sariel'

(or Morning Stars VIII)

Prologue

'Sariel. Now he is an intelligent angel. And Satan over in the corner, still chuckling, nodded to God. 'Yeh, he is bright enough. But Jesus simply remained silent. Nothing to say, presently.'

Chapter One

Daniel was smiling. He was finally happy. A nightmare had ended. He remembered back. The big day had arrived, and Jesus was all pumped up. Boy, was the Lamb of God ready for his glory. Satan and his boys showed, and they were ready for action. And then in stepped Sariel and whistled to Saruviel. 'Yo, it just ticked over 9:45.' Saruviel looked at him. 'Why, yes it has Mr Grant. Why yes it has. I guess a deal is a deal, he said with the slightest grin in his voice. Here you go,' tossing him the ring. Remember Yesh is crafty. But I think we've fucked the lad now. And that fucking number nine pissed him off eternally. I mean, there's the punk. A few years old, and he chooses nine. Fucking number nine. I mean, come on. Put the cunt in his place, hey. Oh, Mr Daly. Don't forget number ten.'

Sariel grinned, catching the ring.

He stepped in, looked at Satan and smiled. 'Sorry, times up. You know the rules.' And he showed him the ring. Satan looked at it, nodded, came over and patted Sariel on the back, and walked over to Yesh. 'You fucking idiot,' and he walked off. And Jesus stood there, confused.'

Michael spoke up. 'You know, Jesus. Sariel is an Eighth angel. You can count to eight, can't you. You can count to eight. I mean, you were circumcised on the eighth day. Remember. Huh?'

'What is that supposed to mean?' asked Jesus, looking confused.

'Sheesh, some guys never learn. Oh, have fun Sariel. I trust you won't let us down.'

'Things should be dandy. Don't sweat it.'

And that was the end of it. It had been eighteen months now and Jesus was locked up in Terraphora, with his followers, making plans. He was puzzled these days, not quite sure what was going on. Really, quite puzzled. But, hey. Such were the plans of God. Such where the plans of God. Heh, heh, heh.

Sariel was sitting with Daniel. 'The ongoing machinations of Jesus of Nazareth are perplexing,' said Sariel.

'The Church continues to attempt to fulfil Revelation. To demonstrate their chosenness as the Kingdom of God,' replied Daniel.

'A lie,' stated Sariel flatly.

'Tell that to them. Sometimes I wonder, though. Perhaps there is a grand mystery of life going on. In a practical life, perhaps God is doing things with this Christian religion that he is not telling us.'

'Or perhaps it is just the agenda of Jesus of Nazareth,' said Sariel, sitting behind the overseers desk.

'Perhaps,' replied the 45th of the male Seraphim of Eternity.

'Your mission,' said Sariel. 'The ultimate glory you seek. I, myself, am not particularly put back by such initiative. If that is what is in your heart, then perhaps God himself is the one who has placed it there.'

Daniel looked at him, considering that statement. 'Uh, Sars. What can I fucking say? Valandriel and I have chatted forever about our objectives, but it is usually us making our decisions. What, are you arguing some predetermined calvinism of the most high?'

'Or the Machinations of Eve,' said Sariel.

'Destiny herself,' replied Daniel.

'Would you like a beer? An English one?'

'Sure,' replied Daniel.

Sariel pressed the buzzer intercom. 'Cindradel? Could you bring in some York Fire, please.'

'Sure Sariel,' she replied after a moment. York Fire was Sariel's current favourite beers, especially because of the fond burning sensation in the mouth.

'And what are you up to these days, Daniel San?' asked Sariel, lying back in his seat.

'Oh. You know. This and that. Lady trouble at the moment. Meludiel has refused my marriage proposal for centuries now, and I only want one more child.'

'Who is she married to at the moment?' Sariel asked casually.

'Jacob Fink,' said Daniel, a disappointed look on his face.

'Him!' exclaimed Sariel. 'Again! She never gets sick of that Cherubim lover.'

'Her earthly husband. Doubt that she'll ever leave him completely,' responded Daniel. 'Oh, I don't mind. Ambriel has accepted that as well. Love goes where it will, according to Meludiel.'

'Indeed,' responded Sariel.

Cindradel came in then, carrying 4 bottles of chilled 'York Fire', and sat them down on the desk. 'Enjoy,' she said.

'Thanks,' replied Sariel.

He opened a beer, passed one to Daniel and said, 'Cheers, brother. To good health.'

'And to long life,' responded Daniel, clinking his beer bottle against Sariel's.

And so they drank the afternoon away, getting slightly inebriated, and the world turned, and nobody was the wiser that the new overseer of the Realm of Eternity got slightly drunk that evening.

Gloryel was in a happy mood. She was in Terraphora, along a private place of the Terraphon river, sitting with Ambriel. Again. They did this occasionally, came here together, because Ambriel wanted to make his sister happy, because she'd had an age long crush on him. She didn't even pretend to deny it.

'The river flows,' said Ambriel, lying on a rug, eating grapes, his head cradled in Gloryel's lap, who was stroking his hair softly.

'It flows,' she replied softly.

Ambriel gazed at the Terraphora, flowing by in its mysterious and eternal destiny, only to return, eventually, through rainclouds, and continue on its job eternally.

'It's like us, in many ways?' he said.

'What is?' asked Gloryel, stroking Ambriel's hair softly.

'The Terravon,' he replied.

'Oh. How so?' she asked.

'It carries on, naturally, and completes its objective at the end of each rim. And then it flows downwards, into the nether and, from what I am told, is touched by the breath of God and rises through the rim gaps, back up into the sky, to form clouds, and start its mission all over again.'

'And how is that like our lives?' she asked.

'Well,' he began. 'We carry on naturally, but in the end we are fallen angels, only to be touched by the mercy of God, and to fly once more in the heavenlies.'

She kissed his head. 'You are clever, aren't you.'

He was smiling.

'Sariel,' he said, out of the blue.

'Yes. My twin,' she replied.

'Are you and him? Well. You know.'

'Sariel is as Sariel does,' she replied. 'And I shan't lose any sleep over that.'

'Then stroke my head in peace,' he replied softly.

She stopped, and considered his words. 'My,' she finally replied. 'You still keep that Torah faith quite strictly, don't you. Quite like Daniel in many ways. Still harps on about the Rainbow Covenant.'

'A Messiah must keep the faith,' he replied.

'Your not married at the moment, are you?' she asked, a note of inquiry in her voice.

'Uh. Well, technically, no. Justine and I are separated, and a divorce was filed the other day which I signed. Technically we are not together anymore. Again.'

'I'm single,' she said, a little heat in her voice.

'Me too,' he said.

'Mmm,' she said. 'Ok then. Lets see just how strict you are.' She stood up, came around in front of him and, slowly, started disrobing.

'What are you doing, Gloryel?' he asked, a moment later, noticing she wasn't stopping.

And then she pulled off her bra, her slacks, and her knickers, and was naked before him.

He gazed at her. Her feminine glory catching his attention.

'Would you like to fuck me?' she asked him, heat in her voice.

He was tempted. He stood, quickly got naked, and came to her and kissed her passionately. And all the while, as he thrust away, an image of Meludiel was in her mind saying, 'Yeh. You're faithful!' in an oh, so sarcastic voice.

'Life is funny,' said Meludiel, lying in the arms of her husband Jacob after a passionate love-making session. 'You spend half eternity trying to work out who you are supposed to be with, and then when you are with someone you spend the rest of if working out if this relationship is right for you or not.'

'You have problems?' asked Jacob.

Meludiel smiled.

'What I wanted to go on to say was, though, sometimes. Sometimes, after all the problems you go through, there are moments when it all works out for the best. And its like that between us.'

'I've always thought so,' said Jacob, getting up from the bed and dressing.

'Where you going?' she asked.

'Work. Gotta do it, you know.'

'You have investments, though. Don't you?' she asked.

'I like to watch over them, Bec. I always have. Its how they stay afloat.'

'Oh, ok,' she said.

He dressed. He left.

She was still frustrated. He'd finished quickly, but she was left with an urge.

She took her mobile, and rang a number.

'Yo.'

'Daniel.'

'Babe. You've come around,' he replied.

'Jesus Christ,' she thought to herself. What was she getting herself into?'

And only time would tell on that.

And Sariel reigned and Sariel ruled, and passions were hot, and passions were cool.

And the world turned.

And the world turned.

The End

Ruth III

Chapter One

Ruth bent down to the cupboard, brought out the brandy, and sat back down, pouring small glasses for herself and Boaz. She sipped on it slowly, the familiar burning sensation in her throat warming her up on such a cold day. It had been a record low for that day of the month, an extreme rarity, and boy was it cold. Below zero and they really did feel it in there bones.

'That's better,' said Boaz, warming his hands in front of the fire they had gotten going. 'Well, why don't we have a game of Monopoly? There's nothing much else to do on a day like this.'

'As long as we play by our special rules. It is too difficult to win otherwise with two players, and it is usually just luck.'

'Not a problem.'

Ruth chose the car and Boaz chose the hat and as they played, outside it started snowing. 'It will again be a cold Hannukah, I feel,' said Ruth. 'Just like last year.'

'But the kids love it. They make snowmen at the synagogue grounds.'

'Do you remember when we first made snowmen? And I threw snowballs at you.'

'How could I forget,' replied Boaz fondly. 'You dumped a whole pile of snow on my head and I caught a cold.'

'We were so in love then, in those early days after the resurrection. It really was a blissful time.'

'And we're not still in love?' queried Boaz.

'Oh, we are still in love. But the passionate flames have dimmed to quiet embers I feel.'

'And what happens when the embers turn to ash?'

'A graceful period of rest. But don't worry, we always start another fire after a while.'

He smiled at that statement – it really was an encouraging metaphor to use for their relationship.'

He raised his glass. 'May the embers, though, smoulder for many years yet.'

She raised her glass, winked at him, and finished her brandy, breathing out when the fire in her throat really warmed up because of the alcohol.

'In a funny way, Boaz, these days are some of the days I like the most. I know they are too cold to do anything, really. But we are closer then. As if the harsher realities of nature, of life, have forced us together.'

'Another wonderful metaphor on life, Ruth. Yes, I know exactly what you are saying. Oppression breeds unity. Yet, united with you, well my life is complete.'

She smiled, leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, and they continued on with their game of monopoly.

The day gradually passed, and Boaz won the game of Monopoly, which he usually did, yet that night, as Ruth pulled up her doona cover next to the already snoring Boaz, she reflected on how they had drawn together that day, and the pleasing and quiet joy it brought to her soul. These really were special days in her life, and finding fulfilment in Boaz, well, really she would have it no other way.

Chapter Two

'Turkey, Ruth? Why Turkey?'

'Oh, you know. Just because.'

'I sense we are having a Christian over for our Hannukah meal.'

'Perhaps.'

'Alright then, I have no objections to Turkey.'

'Good. And we will have roast potatoes, corn, peas, pumpkin, carrots and gravy.'

'It sounds a heck of a lot like a Christmas dinner Ruth.'

'Is that the end of the world.'

'No. No it isn't. It isn't our tradition, but no it's not the end of the world. Alright, have it your way.'

'Good. Now go pray. Our guest will be here at 4. I expect you to make her welcome.'

'Oh, it's a she.'

'Someone I met at the marketplace. She is a Jehovah's Witness. I found her very polite and kind, and saw no reason to object to her coming along for Hannukah meal.'

'Yes, alright. Jehovah's Witness, huh? That should be ok. David has always favoured them somewhat.'

'So it should be a good evening for us. Besides, while we have our own community, we don't live in a vacuum. We must embrace our Christian brethren when it can be done in a positive way appealing to Hashem.'

'I guess so. Should I get out a Christmas tree?' he asked sarcastically.

'Remember, she is a Jehovah's Witness, so you should know the answer to that question.'

'Yes, I in fact do. It was called sarcasm, dearest.'

'Very funny. Now go pray.'

Dutifully Boaz went off to put on his prayer shawl and enter their prayer room.

Ruth busily went about her Hannukah meal, anticipating Gabrielle's presence, the young Jehovah's Witness lady she had met earlier that week.

'Well naturally we know Jesus wasn't Archangel Michael. The whole congregation is patently aware of that fact.'

'And the Christ issue?' queried Boaz.

'There are a variety of perspectives. We are aware that Jesus largely started Christian faith of his own cognition in the Realm of Eternity, so it seems perhaps possible that he likely simply continued that work on Earth. We have no firm information from Jesus himself or God on how legitimate Christian faith really is, yet he has not signalled that it is supposed to end, so we continue in the faith. Besides, the 'Pseudo-Christ' doctrine is so entrenched in some Christian movements now, that we sort of accept him tacitly on those terms anyway.'

'I have never really been firm either way on that issue. Our historical knowledge of the formulation of the Pseudepigraphal writings is not complete, for God does not comment on how involved his spirit has been or wether he has decided to fulfil such teachings. We know they are genuinely non-historical works, for all the authors generally have testified as such, and Abraham and Jacob and the others declare that it is primarily fictitious material. Yet, apparently, as they maintain especially over the revered 1 Enoch, Jesus so clearly fulfilled this book, despite its apparent fictitious nature, that God must have been involved, declared him his son, and that he is a genuine Pseudepigraphal Christ. And while that might denote him all the authority in the world, it also denotes him no authority whatsoever.'

'Which is perhaps the way it is supposed to be,' responded Gabrielle. 'So that Christian faith can run by itself and achieve its own objectives.'

'I guess so,' responded Boaz.

The three of the continued that evening dining and enjoying each other's company and illumination and greater clarification of important issues was forthcoming for all. It was a quiet night of joy, and while he did not make his presence known, Jehovah himself was watching, enjoying the pleasant and civilized conversation.

Chapter Three

The following morning Boaz gazed out through the kitchen window into the yard were Ruth was busily making a snowman. He silently crept outside, grabbed a handful of snow, and dumped it on his unsuspecting wife.

'Errrrhhh. I'm Freezing. I'll get you!' she yelled, and at once picked up a chunk of snow, made a snowball, and threw it at him. Fortunately she was lucky and it hit him on the nose.

They played in the snow for half an hour, made a snowman family, and then returned inside for hot chocolate to warm themselves up.

'Well, I have a few weeks off now,' said Boaz. 'I know it is cold today, but we could do something.'

'I'm open to suggestions,' responded Ruth.

'How about we go on a 'Collecting' holiday. Just collecting various things we have always wanted to play around with and look at.'

'I suppose you will go fishing for some rare stamps?'

'Probably. But you can get some of those teddies you are always going on about. And even some Royal Dolton, which I know you like.'

'Sounds good. Perhaps we could visit Androvon? Stay in a nice hotel, or even with some family.'

'Yes. Young Robert and his wife still live there. I will let them know we are coming.'

'Sounds good. We will leave after lunch. It will give me time to pack and get ready.'

'I'll go ring Robert.'

As they fussed away the morning, each was in their own little world, enjoying that regular thing of life and the good times that always went along with it.

The Grand Magnificent Store of Collectables was, in truth, dutifully living up to its name. Firstly, it was enormous – the size of a large supermarket. And secondly, Ruth suspected that if they didn't have a particular collectable you were after amongst their stock of millions of products, then they would have contact details to obtain them at their fingertips.

She had left Boaz down the back in the Stamps and Coins section, and he was still busily browsing as she walked past a little later, a teddy in her shopping trolley, but by no means finished with her work. And then, saying immediately that it was a small world, she ran into Gabrielle, of all people, and sat down in the store café, having a coffee with her. Boaz found them a little later on and sat at another table, eating his cheesecake, and looking through the stamps he had purchased.

'I know I am supposed to be a faithful wife, Ruth. I know that. And Stanley has always been a good husband. It is just that I feel it in my heart, in my soul. We are drawing apart, despite the very best of our intentions to remain together. And it is heartbreaking, but it just seems impossible to stay together. We try not to fight, but we get annoyed with each other at our habits. And the passion we had in romance is pretty much a thing of the past. God knows we have tried, and I still love him, but it is just not working out. And I can't think of anything else but a divorce.'

Ruth listened attentively, and decided it was time to share some of her wisdom.

'Firstly, Gabrielle, it is perfectly ok to have different personalities. He will always have characteristics which bother you and likewise you will do things which upset him. The secret really is in committing to show each other same graces on your imperfections. Remember you are only human. I really, though, think some counselling could help you. Because if is just faultfinding in the end, you will have this problem with everyone else. And so will he. And as for romance, well don't let it bother you for now. Passions come and go throughout life. There will come a time when he will love you again. In the end I just have to ask you this question. Is he, when all is said and done, a good person. Is he a good man.'

Gabrielle was looking a little teary but looked at Ruth and silently nodded.

'Then persevere. Counselling with the right counsellor can do you the world of good. A good marriage is not really the accident of fate which many suspect it to be. It takes work and effort from both parties. So many marriages fail for lack of it. So if you have any real love for him, stick with it. It just takes a little time.'

Gabrielle nodded, wiping a faint tear from her eye. It was counselling she was grateful to hear, and it had given her a perspective which had helped.

Later on, driving back to the hotel, Ruth thought long and hard on Gabrielle, and decided, of all the very rare things to do anymore, she would fast for one day for her friend. Fasting and prayer at the night to Hashem to lift Gabrielle's spirit and give her the advice her soul really did seem to need.

Chapter Four

It was another cold winter's morning, and Ruth had just fasted the day before, praying for half an hour the previous night. Boaz had not inquired into her reasons, but that morning at breakfast he was now a little curious.

'Was the fasting for Gabrielle?'

'How did you know I was fasting.'

'I wasn't born yesterday, Ruthie.'

'No, I guess you weren't. Well, yes. It was for Gabrielle. She is having marriage difficulties.'

'And you think your prayer and fasting will do anything about it?'

'Those things have worked for Israel in the past.'

Boaz looked at her and, slowly, nodded. 'Yes. Yes they have.'

She looked at him strictly, not quite sure if he approved or disapproved, but did not query him. Eventually he spoke. 'Gabrielle is a good woman. I feel that she likely has eternal life in her heart. Most Christians are usually strongly focused enough on that.'

'So that is what your objections are about, then? If she is going to live forever or not?'

'It comes down to that in many ways, Ruthie. It always has. But, in truth, the Christians and the Noahides seem to have the same attrition rate as us Jews. I don't really discriminate against them the way I used to. They have committed to God enough in their hearts.'

'I always thought they had, Boaz.'

'Still, you need to be sure if you can, which might sound an impossible practice. And you need to be cautious with your heart. If she is the kind of person who is having marriage difficulties, perhaps she is not that focused on spirituality. I know you can never really tell, so don't go objecting straight away. But I don't want your heart getting caught up with a woman who may one day leave you for the grave. I don't want that for you. It is the reason God called Abraham out of Ur of the Chaldees. It is, in truth, what it has always been about.'

Ruth wanted to object, but had to acknowledge the truth of Boaz's words.'

'Yet even those of us chosen for life eternal still need to get by with a little help from our friends.'

Boaz smiled, came over and gave her a hug, and said 'Which is why you are so special to me. For I don't think I could ever get by without you.'

He gave her a kiss, she smiled, and another fine and happy day in the life of Boaz and Ruth, citizens of Televere, passed without any further great anxieties or worries.

The End

'Morning Stars: Bantriel'

(or Morning Stars IX)

Prologue

Bantriel. Mmm.

Chapter One

'Well, that should about do it then. That should about do it. He is wonderful with his numbers, but I am not sure where he will go from here.'

'He is patient, though,' objected Daniel to Sariel's statement. 'I mean, he might throw 24 elders at us. Or even 12 stars of Glory. You know, 12 angels. The women's 12 angels. The first 12. That is definitely the next part of the agenda.'

Michael considered that. 'Should we let him, Daniel. Should we let him?'

'Bantriel, Cimbrel, Dameriel and Valandriel. Those 4 cast out, you reckon?'

'Yes. Generally the four we have in mind.'

'Sorry, no. Val is a buddy. I'll stick with 1 Corinthians 13. Revelation has its purpose, but prophecies fail.'

'Very well.'

'Besides, nobody goes to hell forever. As simple as that. I'll never compromise. It's my Karaite roots after all.'

'I guess so,' finished Michael.

Bantriel felt better. A horrible dream had left him. A horrible, horrible dream. And now destiny was speaking to him, calling him a young child in the arms of an eternal father who never stopped loving him. 'He's got the whole world in his hands,' she sang to him, and Bantriel grew in grace and love because of it. He was proud of his French heritage now. Proud and grateful that God kept the faith, even when others like Jesus Christ gave up on you. It said it all in the end. But he kept his faith in Jesus as well. He was his brother, and he loved him, and Bantriel reflected over the years that such was life. Such was life.

666, the number of the beast, hell and fire were spawned to be released. Saruviel was ready. Ready for the challenge. Time to teach Jesus Christ a lesson. He volunteered, and chose Cimbrel, Dameriel and Valandriel. They would do the real work, and sort the punk out for good. This time he really would not see it coming. This time the Antichrist would kick his arse.

Cimbrel agreed, so did Dameriel and so did Valandriel. Daniel laughed all night, smiling, and called Saruviel a genius. 'Oh, I like the mark you have come up with. That should be perfect, at which point Saruviel just grinned. Heh, heh, heh. This could be fun.

Time and time and time again he had been foiled. Yet life, inevitably, presented further opportunities to make ones claim of glory, and the Revelation of John was the source of much of Jesus current ambitions. Saruviel, finally, was showing what Jesus, so he believed, were characteristics placed into his heart by Almighty God. The true characteristics of the Adversary, Satan, in the form of the Antichrist. Revelation, so Jesus taught, was a book of themes. And they would one day understand that truth. No matter which way history ended up unfolding, there was still much truth in the revelation of John, now matter if it was not literal and simply a thematic work. Saruviel from ancient days had been an adversary to the Realm of Eternity, and the revelation put him in his place. Jesus saw it as the judgement of God, and while it had failed on Judgement Day with his beheading by Samael, in truth it had not failed at all. Paul had been correct. The King James Version stood true as the word of God as well, and its own teaching had necessarily been vindicated. Justice and mercy must both be done. And so, for love of evil, as someone might put it, Samael had beheaded Jesus, and the Revelation had failed. Yet the Word of God stood firm, for Paul must need a prophecy for that prophecy to fail, and John had provided one for him. The New Testament would never die, Jesus believed, and its moral truths, the important thing, still remained in place.

So he looked forward to the challenge of Archangel Saruviel, and would accept whatever destiny and fate his Almighty Father had in store for him.

Bantriel was overseer. The glory of France was overseer. The Realm of Eternity, finally, had a decent overseer. One with confidence, professionalism, charm and adroit understanding of the people.

Except that Bantriel was an arrogant prick of an angel, with a french cordon bleu attitude which pissed of everyone he met after a while. Even Ashayziel his twin.

Bantriel's main problem was that he was stuck up. French Cherubim often remarked to God in the throneroom of Zaphon that he had truly outdone himself with their tutelary prince. The sarcasm had been noted on each and every occasion. God was yet to rebuke them for it.

Ashayziel, Bantriel's twin, was a native american squaw, who had married Bantriel in the New World of young America, when she had met the brave Frenchman. But he had died, and then she had gone off to France, and become a Catholic nun, which was Bantriel's religion, and eventually even had met the pope. Ashayziel still loved him but now, somewhat, more from a distance, for she was a nun in a church in Terraphora, who he had not seen a very long time now. His general attitude of belittling people had never really ceased, even though she had occasionally softly chided him for some of his behaviour. Bantriel himself, though, ironically, had gotten the point a long time ago, and was in the process of amending his way. Albeit, extremely slowly. He would, in his thinkings, keep their comments in mind, but only act on them oh so slowly when thoughts came to his mind to do as such. But, from time to time, there was a perhaps kinder word than someone might expect, and a less harsh criticism than perhaps they had been used to. Yes, Bantriel would learn his lesson eventually, yet, sitting there, on the throne of the overseer, as he liked to pretend, or in the chair of the overseers office, he thought on his new found glory. Time, was now. Time was now, perhaps delayed for far too long, to do something about the attitude of Bantriel and, in the glory which was his, actually surprise people. Surprise them by showing that he was not such an asshole, as Sariel often commented, as people might think. Time to show them a brand new Bantriel.

The assassin crept into the outer chambers of the Overseer's offices in Zaphon tower. He was armed with a ZTX4500 – a deadly weapon, something of a Tazer which could kill. He got into Zaphon without too many problems, because who the hell believed in Security anymore? The Realm of Eternity was settled on love, so everyone told each other. Yet, the operative for Organization Anarchy didn't care. They didn't conform. And first objective of the Lords of Evil, as they termed themselves – kill the new overseer.

The assassin sat on chair in the reception area of the offices, nobody paying much attention to him, the guitar case looking perfectly innocent. Who would suspect a thing? How could you? They worried about Satan and his ongoing agendas, but life was peaceful in the realm of eternity, and nobody had concerns for security very much. Cindradel was in the offices at that moment, talking with a friend, when she noticed the visitor and decided to see if she could help.

'Do you have an appointment?' she asked the angel, who had a recent scar still showing on his left cheek.

He smiled at her. 'Sure, sweetie,' and suddenly took out a hunting knife, grabbed her before she could really react, and held it to her neck.

Fear gripped the Seraphim Cindradel. A fear she had never really known. She had served the overseer for so long now, and was used to all sorts of clientele. But an angel holding a knife to her neck was most definitely not in her work contract as things she had to deal with.

'Don't, don't hurt me,' she stammered.

'Shut up, bitch,' replied the angel.

Bye now others had noticed, and had approached, carefully. A gathering of most of the office were behind the partition boards and near the entrance of the Overseer's offices, watching carefully. And then Bantriel appeared.

'Look, fella. Put down the knife,' he said carefully. 'I don't think you really want to hurt Cindradel. We can talk this over, ok.' He had his hands in front of him, and palms faced downwards was trying to calm the angel down, to get him to put down his knife. Who was this freak, Bantriel's mind rushed. What the hell was his problem? They didn't have to deal with shit like this – nobody did. The realm of eternity was founded on lawfulness, every angel and human taught Torah from birth. How the hell could this have happened?

Bantriel motioned to come forward a little, but the angel threatened Cindradel's knife with the neck, which caused a shudder around the room, and Bantriel backed down.

'Ok, ok,' he said. 'I'm backing down. Don't hurt her, ok. What do you want?' asked Bantriel.

The angel looked around the room. 'Comfortable, aren't you. All of you. Comfortable with your lives. Comfortable with your success. Life is easy, now, isn't it? But do you really give a fuck anymore? About the fighter's out there? Do you give a shit about those who have struggled for millions of years, only to still be on the streets of eternity, suffering the condemnation of a society which has rejected them.'

It was true – the Realm of Eternity, unfortunately, did have a vagrant class, which seemed to always be there. But every overseer since Michael had accepted this reality, and that people often made hard decisions. They were under the judgement of God, so the tradition went. Leave them be. Let them sort themselves out in their own time. But that attitude, now, seemed to have backfired. Now a new threat had emerged, which they would find out about very, very soon.

'We are Organization Anarchy,' said the angel. 'And we are those you reject, and pass by each day, and never really give a shit about. But we are strong, now. And your judgement has come.'

'Sure,' said Bantriel, keeping his eye on the knife. 'What are your demands?'

The angel carefully opened the guitar case, and brought out his weapon. Nobody would know what it was.

'Do you want to know what I want?' the angel asked. 'This!' he shouted, and pointed the weapon at Bantriel and pushed the trigger. A jolt shot out, but only marginally connected with his shoulder. Still Bantriel fell to the ground under the enormous electrical shock.

Suddenly, from behind the angel, another angel tackled the oppressor and, after a short struggle, had removed the weapon from him, and had him pinned.

Cindradel was still shaking, but said 'We have handcuffs. In the overseer's desk.'

'Get them,' said the angel.

Others were gathered around Bantriel, who was sitting up now, recovered a bit from the shock.

'Aw, fuck, that hurt,' he said, clutching his shoulder.

'Raddonel, have you got him secure?'

The angel holding down the oppressor nodded, and a few of the other male angels were standing by Raddonel now, ready to assist.

Cindradel appeared with the cuffs, and her shaking had diminished somewhat. She handed the cuffs to Bantriel.

'Get him up,' said Bantriel.

Raddonel and the other angels got the man to his feet, and Bantril handcuffed him. 'I'm arresting you,' said Bantriel. 'You are reminded of your legal rights in the Realm of Eternity, wether citizen or visitor, and you will be taken to the Zaphon tower security cells for the time being, and then the Realm police will be talking to you.'

He turned the man around to face him. 'And don't you fuck with Cindradel again, punk. Or you will be tasting that tazer up your bloody arse.'

The man spat at Bantriel, but said nothing more.

'Take him away,' said Bantriel. 'We'll sort him out soon enough.'

Raddonel and the others took hold of the man, and propelled him out of the offices, taking him away to Zaphon Security.

'Ok, ok, everybody,' said Bantriel. 'I know, this doesn't happen everyday. Look, just go home. Some of you may be anxious, and feeling a little worried. I think we will look into security now, so don't worry. We'll deal with it. Just go home, and we'll see you in the morning.'

The chatter was intense as the office workers slowly dispersed, and Bantriel himself was shaking a little. He turned to Cindradel. 'You ok?'

She just looked at him, and the look on her face said it all.

Bantriel looked out after the departed angel, and thought to himself. 'Organization Anarchy. Wonderful. Absolutely bloody wonderful. What a fantastic way to start a career.'

And, for the briefest moment, the flame in the throneroom of Zaphon flickered sparks of orange, then red, almost chuckling at the overseers sarcasm, it would seem, before the pure blue flame returned once more.

The Mother Superior of the holy order of St Aristotle XVI, a devout Catholic order of nuns, situated in Terraphora in Paris, (were St Aristotle had once visited in the presence of Jesus, and prayed to God an inordinate amount of time about a particular patch of land which, being an unused field on the edge of a playing ground, 'Could make a good place for a church', in the words of the Saint; destiny had duly resulted, several decades later, in the purchase of the land at quite an exorbitant price, but St Aristotle's had been formed, and an order of Nuns had come to be, though there were not many Catholic churches in Terraphora – a few dozen – for it was a world of devout Torah, yet the Cherubim Jesus had influence and, as the head of the Catholic church, afforded the purchase with some donations from various wealth Realm Catholic institutions, and the Cathedral had been built) wandered along the upper corridor of the Convent, carrying a recent newspaper. She came to a wooden door with metal hinges and ornate decoration, in a dark ages style, and hesitated briefly, not really wanting to disturb the praying nun on the other side of the door, yet shortly knocked.

Silence. A few minutes of it. Then the door was opened a little, and the face of a native american female looked out. 'Oui,' she responded softly, in a slight French accent, influenced with her own Indian dialect.

The mother superior passed the paper to her, made the sing of the cross, and, saying nothing, left. The nun took the newspaper and closed the door.

The room was quite sparse, a bed, a bookcase and a set of drawers and a cupboard. Nothing technological appeared to be in the room, and all hints of a modern culture were absent. The books in the bookcase were all leather bound, the cross on the wall quite basic in many ways, and it felt like you were in those dark ages, the spirit of the room another world to the city which lay outside them.

The nun was sister Mary. A traditional name she had taken, inspired by her devotion to the Lady of the Church, and she was more than that. She was Seraphim. The ninth-born Seraphim female angel of the Realm of Eternity. Ashayziel, twin to Bantriel.

Long ago, when Ashayziel had lived on earth, she had met Bantriel again, a frenchman, visiting America, looking for his fortune. She had met him, and fallen in love with the pale face, even though her tribe were never pleased. But she loved him, and when he had died prematurely, she had come to know his 'Jesus' and had travelled to France, come to a convent, and taken her vows of ordination into the Catholic Church as a nun. She had even met the pope once.

She had not left the faith, even now. Even now, with many of the doubters of Christian faith challenging church teaching abounding, especially the 'Pseudo-Christ' doctrine, which never stopped persisting to be a conversation topic, even in her own convent. She loved her brother Ambriel, and had met Zerubbabel, which she considered probably the real Jewish Messiah, the one who genuinely fulfilled the prophecies of the Old Testament, but that didn't matter to her. Her devotion to Jesus, now, was one of love. Love and respect and admiration for the calm and consistent spirit he always pervaded upon her person when she was in his presence. She was not a 'Christian' Catholic. She was a 'Loving' Catholic. A Catholic of faith, rather than correct doctrine. She never confused Jesus with God anymore, and the theophany had once commented to her he had not idolatry concerns with his daughter. She could remain Catholic forever, if she so chose. That was her choice. But there lingered in his voice an unsaid word which, almost said, but you won't, my child. She listened to that voice, but wondered how he could ever really change her heart from what she knew to be true. To be true with all her heart.

She sat down on her bed, and looked at the newspaper. Bantriel, her twin, current overseer of the Realm, was on the cover. 'Our Overseer – Our Champion' it read, and the story told of how he had dealt with an armed angel trying to kill him and rescued Cindradel, chief secretary to the Overseer.

'My,' she said to herself, and an old flutter came across her heart, one perhaps not fitting for a nun, and she looked at Bantriel's face, and remembered that she did love him. That she did love her twin. And, giving it some silent thought, felt perhaps now – a visit. A visit, again, after all this time. Yes, she was a nun, devoted to prayer for her church. Yet she did not have to pray all day every day, and even Ashayziel could enjoy something of the regular life of the Realm from time to time.

She looked at her closet, and noticed the grey and white gown and tunic, and decided she would put them on in the morning, let mother superior know she would be absent for a while, and go off and find Bantriel, and rekindle their friendship, and give him a little hug for the brave deed done for their sister Cindradel.

Karnak Diabolica, or so he liked to be known to the scum who associated with him, was the head and absolute supreme bastard of Organization Anarchy.

He looked at the newspaper.

'They took out Jek,' said Krondor. 'The plan failed, oh fearless leader,' he grinned, with a mad sadistic grin, the scar on his left cheek almost mocking Karnak too.

'Fuck you,' said Karnak, and looked in the distance.

'What the fuck we gonna do about it?' asked Krondor.

'Next phase, idiot. Phase 2. We have their attention now. Now we strike,' replied Karnak.

'Umm. Phase 2. I always loved phase 2. Uh, what is phase 2 by the way?'

'Your mothers underwear,' said Karnak in response, a mad grin on his own face.

Krondor lashed out, but Karnak grabbed his hand and said 'Dream on, Punk.'

Krondor rubbed his hand after Karnak had released it, looking fowly at his infamous bastard leader. 'What the fuck is it then?'

'Remember those biological properties you stole for me 5 years ago?'

Krondor nodded. 'Jurassic Genetics,' replied Krondor.

'Come here, idiot,' said Karnak, and motioned Krondor over to the back of the dimly lit basement. He pulled up the blinds covering a window and said, 'Look.'

Iniside the room, all white, were scientists, all busy at work.

'What the fuck they doin?' asked Krondor.

Karnak tapped on the window to get a scientists attention. When one of them came over Karnak yelled. 'Get me K1.'

The scientist nodded and walked off. Shortly, he returned, and had a cage in his hand. And there inside the cage, a weird looking lizard.

'Lizards!' said Krondor. 'What the fuck we going to do with lizards?'

'It's just hatched,' said Karnak. 'And it aint no lizard.'

'Then what the fuck is it?' asked the second in command of Organization Anarchy.

Karnak pointed across the room, and Krondor, following the finger found himself gazing at the large plastic statue of a Velociraptor which Karnak had acquired a few years back.

'And they aint being trained to be vegetarians,' grinned Karnak madly.

Krondor smiled. 'Well done, bastard,' he said to his infamous leader.

The sadistic look on Karnak's face in response summed it all up.

Bantriel sat on the shore of Glimmersphon keep, down on the old jetty, legs dangling over the edge into the water. He had booked some overseer's private time at Golden Lake, his own prerogative, and he was in a gentle and quiet mood. Thoughtful, but gentle.

'How are you?' a voice said to him from behind.

Bantriel turned. It was God, with an angel hidden behind him.

'Oh. It's you,' he replied.

God came and sat down next to Bantriel and then, on the other side, Saruviel sat down.

'Hey Sar,' said Bantriel. Saruviel nodded.

They sat there, quite a while, silent, watching the still lake, the ripples endlessly cascading to the shore, a golden gleam over the lake today, hence its name.

Finally Saruviel broke the silence. 'I wanted to say something. Bant. Something old.'

'Yeh,' responded the Frenchman.

'In the beginning, I didn't actually choose to rebel. It wasn't based on trying to usurp the authority of God, in reality. Not really. It was trying to defend our own lives – as angels. Our own beings. Our own nature. Our own sovereignties. I was trying to demonstrate that, for us, we were important...' he trailed off, about to say something more, but never said it.

'And?' Bantriel eventually said.

'And, I guess...I guess I didn't really understand that we were important to God. Back then. That we have always been important to God. And now, these days, more than ever, after seeing the fidelity of God for so long in my life. In our lives. Well I know a little better now.' He stopped, and stared at the water a little before continuing. 'It was youth. Perhaps pride filled youth, but youth. I lacked experience. I lacked knowledge. I lacked understanding.'

'Mmm,' said Bantriel. 'We DID tell you these things back then, you know. You just didn't really listen. You didn't really agree.'

'He was headstrong,' said God.

Bantriel smiled at that. 'Saruviel? Headstrong? Nah,' and the three of them chuckled a little.

'I just want to say,' said Saruviel. 'That I'm sorry. Sorry about it all. That I know I probably affected you as well, as I did everyone, I guess. And that time moves on, and people grow up. And that, hopefully, I've started to do that.'

'Don't sweat it,' said Bantriel, and patted his brother on the back.

Saruviel nodded, and, after a moment, stood, and walked back down the jetty a little, veering off to the side, and looking off towards Zaphon.

God spoke. 'You have a challenging time coming up. You probably don't know that, but I do. These next few years...It's going to be a hell of a ride. But I want to say something in my defense before you even begin to question. Remember Saruviel, and the lesson he has learned in his experience. The lesson of trust he has learned.'

Bantriel looked at God, smiled softly, and turned back to the lake. 'Sure,' he replied.

'Then that's good,' said God, and turned back to the lake. 'We'll be going now. But remember, trust me. Trust the spirit. It will all work out for the best, in the end, ok. It will all work out.'

And then he was gone, and Saruviel with him, leaving a slightly puzzled Bantriel staring out at Golden Lake, now even more thoughtful than before.

Sariel was sitting in the overseer's office, opposite Bantriel, who was looking at his computer screen.

'Well, froggie,' said Sariel smiling.

'Well froggie what?' asked the annoyed Bantriel in response.

'Well. Well done.'

'For what?' replied Bantriel.

'Your a hero. Saved Cindradel's butt. Its in all the papers, you know. The realms new savioiur.'

'I'm hardly a saviour,' responded Bantriel.

'Yes. I suppose not. Good at saving cheese far too long till it has gone off, but hey, your French.'

'Go to hell,' responded Bantriel.

'It surprises me, though. The way the reports were written. Seems to be leaving out something, I felt. Not the whole story.'

Bantriel waved his hand away.

'Like there is something you are not telling us,' said the suspicious Sariel.

'He got tazered,' said Cindradel, coming into the room.

'Really?' queried Sariel, now interested. He looked at Bantriel. 'The bastard zapped you then?'

Bantriel looked squarely at his predecessor. 'You know, you could use a good zap. Zap off out of my office, I think. Yes, I think so.'

Sariel grinned. 'Hardly hero talk. You should be proud, though. Arresting the man so solemnly.'

'Solemnly? Hah!' laughed Cindradel. 'He said if the guy ever fucked with me again he would shove the tazer up his arse and zap him.'

Sariel chuckled at that. 'I should have known something fishy was going on,' he said, now smiling at Bantriel.

'You English, you know. Unbelievable,' said Bantriel in response. 'After all, you are totally devoid of crudities yourself, are you not?'

'Indeed,' responded Sariel, in posh accent.

'The hell you are,' said Bantriel. 'I remember not so long ago. We were in Terraphora, and we were at a bar. And there was this attractive angel, and your lips uttered quite a few choice words that night.'

'Ooh, Sariel,' said Cindradel. 'Do tell, Banty.'

'I'm not one to embarrass our moral champion, but he is hardly innocent,' replied Bantriel.

'Well, touche old fellow,' said Sariel. 'But I can hardly match your noble effort.'

'I doubt that,' said Bantriel, and grinned a little to himself while staring at the computer screen.

'What is Organization Anarchy?' asked Sariel, now serious.

Bantriel turned to look at his older Seraphim brother. He laid back in his chair, and picked up his cigar and lit it. After a few puffs he spoke. 'The fellow. Only called himself Jek. We're doing our best to identify him. Said he represented Organiztion Anarchy, and that they were going to cause us all some bloody trouble.'

'Perhaps a vain boast,' said Sariel in consideration. 'Bragging. Tough talk. Homicidal maniacs tend to mouth off.'

'I'm not so sure he was a maniac,' responded Bantriel. 'He seemed, I don't know. Polished. Like he had been well trained at his work. No. No, it was not a brag. He was warning us in a way. Threatening us really, I suppose. The danger is genuine. But we're handling it.'

'You don't need any help? My door is always open, you know.'

Bantriel looked at his brother. 'If I need you, you will be the first to know. Don't sweat it, as you say.'

'Then I will not sweat it. But keep me informed, ok. We don't want to be caught offguard by any militant group. Not what the Realm of Eternity is used to, but if the threat is real I would like to stay informed.'

'Sure,' said Bantriel, puffing away.

Sariel stood, stretched a little, and said. 'Well, I'm off. Things to do. People to see. But well done froggie.' As he turned away, he whispered, 'Tazer butt,' softly.

Bantriel watched him depart and, when Sariel was out of earshot, mumbled 'See you too, asshole,' which caused a slight smirk on the face of Cindradel.

Bantriel looked at her. 'Well. What are you doing? Shoo. Off to your desk.' Cindradel nodded, but the smile on her face while she departed embarassed him a little.

He put down his cigar, turned back to his screen, but looked out after the departed Sariel briefly. 'I really hope I don't have to call you though, brother of mine.' And then he turned back to his computer, and got on with the rest of the days work.

Saruviel sat in Danielphon, in the main front lounge of the keep, Ariel sitting quietly, chatting with Krystabel. 'The point is, Daniel. We don't reveal our true intentions to Bantriel. That is the point of God's testing.'

'He could freak,' said Daniel.

'The plan will fail, for he is a responsible overseer, and it would just get in the way letting him know,' said the Dark Lord unflinchingly.

'What do you think Sariel?' Daniel asked his older brother.

'Well I'm eternally loyal to Jesus Christ,' he said in his polished English accent. 'But I'm no Christian. I think, in all honesty, Zerubbabel has won my heart.'

'Yes, I know the doctrine,' responded Daniel.

'I think,' spoke up Michael, 'That the power of prayer has often been overlooked by some of us. Jesus is based on prayer to accomplish his will and agenda. The machinations he has used upon us these past arcs to fulfil his revelation have been extraordinarily well thought, and only our constant awareness has kept him at bay. He will make himself Christ if he at all can. He will be God's greater glory.'

'Yet what of truth?' asked Daniel.

'Flexible stuff,' said Saruviel. 'Life principle, remember. If the chosen ones don't do the work, God will go on to somebody who will. And they WILL be glorified because of it. The man from Nazareth is no slouch. He constantly keeps his eye over Christendom, and watches the world. He takes his opportunities when he can do so. And, while we might prattle on about the obviousness of Ambriel as a response to Jesus' claims, he would couneract with his twin messiah doctrine of the Lord of Lords and King of Kings and the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords. Two of them, supposedly, and I see how such an interpretation of the Apocalypse could well be made.'

'He's a crafty sod,' said Sariel.

'He's a cherubim who wasn't born yesterday,' responded Michael. 'No. No, I think we go on with the general plans, and when the new work of the Christ Child becomes obvious, we respond in the way we usually do.'

'For the love of Torah,' said Daniel.

'For the love of Torah,' replied Michael in agreement.

'12 Stars of the Woman's glory. A third of the angels cast out. Seraphim 1 to 12, the last third the weaker ones. The 'Less' important ones, as Jesus might argue,' said Daniel.

'Which is why they indeed have,' said Michael.

'Yet we can not talk with Bantriel?'

'His innocence is our best weapon,' responded Michael.

'Agreed,' said Sariel.

'I suppose so,' said Saruviel.

Eyes turned to Daniel. 'Mmm,' said the 45th Seraphim of Eternity. Mmm indeed.

Chapter Two

'Manu, Manu, Manu. How many times must I tell you. Cuisine française, oui? Not this Australian shit you serve up so often now.'

Manu Feildel nodded, but stood his ground. 'Dear brother. I cook French all the time, oui. I like Australian tucker. It is a change from our regular style.'

'Simonuel. You may be a Seraphim and prince of Paris, but I do not count you the wisest man in France. The Aussie can take a running jump. All your kitchen rules associates have gone to your bloody head. Francaise, ok. Not this crap.'

Simonuel, who had been known as Manu Feildel in his earthly manifestation, looked annoyed, but nodded at last. 'I will defer to the taste buds of my older brother. Ok, ok. No more Australian.'

'Thank you,' responded Bantriel. 'I do not want to fire you as my personal cook. You asked for this time here in Zaphon tower to learn about the overseer's work for your anticipated latter time in the role. But, please. Do not piss me off with giving me this apparation of food. It is not to my liking.'

The 26th male Seraphim of the Realm of Eternity picked up the tray and said to his older brother. 'I will need an hour or so. Can you wait?'

'Shoo. I'm not going anywhere. Busy all night tonight. Cook me something I can stomach. Now shoo.'

Simonuel nodded, and headed off to the kitchen connected to the Overeer's offices.

Simonuel enjoyed his work, as a chef for the most part, and prided himself on the excellence of his work. He had always liked food, enjoying fine eating, and being a master of culinary delights, and while he probably did enjoy French food most of all, had a fondness for all things Australian because of his life spent in the great southern land. He still did those cooking shows, from time to time. My kitchen rules. And the original cooks of the show, competitors with each other, usually features season after season, competing once more, each time trying to chalk up another victory with their growing knowledge and experience in the craft. Ratings were huge, and they did the shows now in the Realm of Eternity because of Simonuel, for the main part. Incredibly popular, and a consuming passion of his life but, dealing with Bantriel, who was always awkward, sometimes he forgot that not everyone may be as adventurous as himself.

He tossed the food into the food recycling bin, put the plate in the sink, and sat down on the kitchen stool, thinking. Something French for Bantriel. So predictable. But if that is what big boss man wanted, that is what big boss man got. Still, it was worth it anyway. He was old, Simonuel. Well experienced in handling his role as overseer for the 26th disc of the Realm, Bethlephora, in the Captial, Bethlephoraphon, but when this invitation to learn how the highest office in the Realm was run, sitting in occasionally with Bantriel and discussing things, he decided it in his best interests to get advance knowledge of the job, knowledge which would prove useful when the 26th Arc of Eternity advented, as they often called them, the One Million year reigns, in the tradition so far established, that each overseer did his work within. It would be old experience then, and he would be grounded with training for his latter work. And he liked to do that. To be well prepared. Every chef needed to be well prepared. It went with the job.

He stared at the fridge, and, inspiration coming upon him, thought of an old recipe which he had not used for Bantriel yet. Getting to work he sighed a little, but was soon lost in his world, cutting vegetables, mixing sauces, and doing that job he did and had done so well for so long now. And Bantriel better bloody appreciate it, he said to himself. Or he could take his job and... but he left off without finishing the thought. He still had his morals. God only knew if Bantriel did, but Manu had some class. So he worked, and prepared his bosses meal, and let his sighs turn to activity, another culinary masterpiece surely soon to be created.

'Keep the faith, Paul,' said Jesus, to one of his primary apostles.

The Seraphim Angel Yomiel, the Apostle Paul, twin to the Melaniel, the Spice Girl Melanie B, sighed. 'All I ever do is keep the faith, Jesus. Forever, practically.'

'As you should Yomiel.'

'Aye, Lord.'

Jesus wandered out of the Vatican office of Nazraphora disc, and Paul, watching him go, returned his focus to the letter in front of him. Private correspondence between himself and an outer disc Arch-Bishop, seeking clarification on various aspects of Doctrine of the church. Very much something he dealt with a great deal. Paul. Master of doctrine, it was often said by the popes. As if he had almost invented Christianity, which many a progressive theologian claimed anyway.

He looked at the picture of his twin on his desk. He kept one, not because they ever met much, or got along at all. They were in two complete worlds, worlds, literally, apart in both way of life and mannerisms. The oddest of God's twinnings in many ways. A completely insane arrangement. For heaven's sake – she had become a pop singer in the 20th century, when she finally showed up. And that had influenced her, with the grounding of the human soul she had been given, as all were upon manifestation on earth, things changed within her. A new psyche was born. And after that, it had never been the same again. But he prayed for her, from time to time, and kept tabs on what she was up to, and that was about that. The limit of the relationship between Yomiel and Melaniel, both of them the 50th born Seraphim, male and female respectively, of the Realm of Eternity.

And time passed, and dinosaurs roamed the realm, and there were some bloody tense moments. And while nobody was killed in the end, everyone wondered just what the heck would happen next.

The End

The End

'Morning Stars: Cimbrel'

(Or Morning Stars X)

Prologue

Cimbrel. Genius.

Chapter One

Cimbrel looked at the rocket chicken. 'Mate,' he said to the brave Aussie. 'That is fucking awesome. That car is tops.' The ancient actor smiled. Destiny was funny, he thought to himself. Very funny

Jesus was starting to get upset. Quite upset. He was cross. Everyone knew it. Everyone was worried, especially Cimbrel the current angel to have a go at, and he feared Lamb Boy's wrath. 'He'll get us,' said Saruviel. 'He'll get us if he can.'

'Huh. Me Japanese. Me smart. Jesus, he simple Jewish boy. Lack forethought,' replied Cimbrel.

Saruviel grinned. 'I'll take you're word for it Cimby. I'll take your word for it.'

Later on, back at the race club, Saruviel sat on the beanbag drinking Billy-Beer, with Cimbrel playing on the pinball machine, the game 'Whitesnake-Lovehunter'.

'Are you winning,' asked the dread Lord.

'The Lord of Nippon is genius at these things,' replied Cimbrel. 'Of course I am winning Alexander San.'

'He's just lucky,' said Shemrael, coming into the room.

'Lucky my arse,' replied Cimbrel. 'The genius of gods inhabits my very soul.'

Shemrael smiled, and kissed him on the cheek as he played along. 'Then you are indeed blessed,' she replied.

Cimbrel pushed the flippers for the last time, and let the game go, coming to sit next to Shemrael, who was opening up the box of Kentucky Fried Chicken.

'Bloke,' said Shemrael, to the Rocket Chicken driver. 'You want some?'

The motorist came over from the side of the club house, said 'Cheers,' and tucked in, as did Saruviel after a moment.

With mouths full of fried chicken, Saruviel spoke up. 'Michael's cash fall is enormous, I admit. But the shares he has offered in MichaelCorp are very, very attractive to myself. I have never been one to knock back Gold Chip shares when on offer.'

'We don't have them yet,' said Shemrael.

Bloke spoke up. 'Jesus is not as wise as he claims. There are weaknesses in his current attack. The Theophany has neither affirmed nor denied the 'Covenant' he has asked us all to partake – the Covenant of Recognition of Works.'

'It will only advantage Jesus,' said Saruviel. 'And, ultimately, prevent God from correcting Jesus' initial impulses. Jesus knows this. If he can justify his church, through moral and meritorius enough works, then he can justify its eternal existence. And the Theophany simply will not comment on this.'

'Yet occasionally someone signs onto the covenant from the Angelic hierarchy,' said Cimbrel.

'And with recognition, God may perhaps consider the idea. He makes up his own mind, but sometimes admits to being influenced,' said Shemrael.

'Whereas we have an amazing offer from Michael to prevent this from succeeding,' said Saruviel.

'And we will achieve this, how?' asked Shemrael.

'Its all about race cars,' said Saruviel smiling. And then, patting bloke on the back, he said 'And robot chickens.'

'Ha ha, very funny,' said Cimbrel. 'You almost japanese,' he said in a fake oriental accent, and everyone laughed.

'Yes, we shall see about that,' said Saruviel. 'We shall indeed see about that.'

And in time they did.

The End

'Morning Stars: Dameriel'

(Or Morning Stars XI)

Prologue

99 In the shade. Yeh, great song.

Chapter One

Dameriel smiled at God. 'So here comes the fun stuff, huh? The fun stuff.'

'You better believe it, boy. You better believe it.'

'Coool.'

The party rocked. Track 11 was on repeat. ALWAYS track 11. Dameriel's number. ALWAYS Dameriel's number. I mean, Bon Jovi started their albums with New Jersey, right? Slippery When What exactly? He oft queried of Callodyn. Every album had at least 11 tracks. The best ones ONLY had 11 tracks. New Jersey, with 12, something of an exception, but he liked Valandriel enough in the end anyway.

Florel came along the beach, returning from her walk. She was clothed in a white lacey top, with a denim and leather jacket and denim short skirt, with fishneck stockings. Standard wear these days. Everyone wore that, these days.

He lived with God and Valandriel and Elsabel and Florel his own twin, in Sayreville, New Jersey, in Terraphora. It was 500 years before the end of Cimbrel's reign as overseer, and he was expected to be the replacement, but that was still a bit to go. For now he partied, drank 400 beers regularly, and saw the band in concert every few years when they toured. Terraphora was a main stop off for Bon Jovi – one of the few places in the Realm of Eternity that most of the big bands did, because of the genuine earth equivalence status. Like New Terra as well, they were the places to be mostly seen. The Realm of Eternity, usually Zaphora and Terraphora for Angels, and the elite, and New Terra in the planetary section of the spiritual universe for humans. The nub of excitement. The nub of adventure, usually. Some discs of eternity often paraded this or that programme to claim the glory, but old news was good news, and the oldest worlds usually claimed the glory. Just the way it was in truth.

The end

'Morning Stars: Valandriel'

(Or Morning Stars XII)

Prologue

Summation, completion of the matter. Mmm.

Chapter One

Valandriel looked at the sky. It was turning red. It seemed the signs were obvious. The time was at hand. It would be a challenging few years, but they would pull through. They would keep the faith in a certain angel, and that would be that, so to speak. That would be that.

The End


End file.
